


Sleeping with the Enemy

by Taybay14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe mafia, Angst, Anxiety, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Dean Winchester, BDSM, BDSM Scenes, BDSM interrogation play, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bratty Subs, Caning, Cas is a brat, Choking, Chuck is a dick, Cock & Ball Torture, Collars, Consensual non-consent play, Dean is a good guy (with Cas at least.... he is a mobster after all), Depression, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Play, Edgeplay, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, Experienced Dom Dean, Forced Marriage, Gentle Dom Dean Winchester, Hair-pulling, Humiliation kink, Improvised Sex Toys, Light Sadism, Lingerie, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mirror Sex, NO rape/non-con sexual content, Nipple Play, Non-con situation, Not 24/7 bdsm, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Painslut Cas, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, Protective Dean Winchester, Rimming, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), Self-Harm, Semi-Public Sex, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel (Supernatural), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sounding, Spanking, Sub Castiel (Supernatural), Sub Drop, Temperature Play, Tiny bit of Cas with others (mostly Benny just likes to help his boss out and watch the show), Torture (mafia-related), Twink Castiel (Supernatural), Under-negotiated Kink, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), Wax Play, electric play, mentions of past suicide attempts, not as dark as this is starting to sound...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 123,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: 3 prominent mafia organizations rule the area. The Hunters, The Angels, & The Demons have been locked in a war full of blood and deceit for generations now. When The Angels begin to lose their hold on their territory, and The Demons successfully assassinate the leader of The Hunters, it becomes clear something needs to be done.Now that John Winchester has been murdered, it's Dean's turn to step up to the plate. He plans on doing things different. He's smart. Focused. Determined.His first order of business - a pact with Chuck Novak, the leader of The Angels.A few meetings and one very nice bottle of scotch later, and a peace pact has been made. Castiel Novak, Chuck's youngest, is the item that seals their deal. An arranged marriage to forever bond the two families together.Of course, no one bothers to run this by Castiel, but that won't be an issue... right?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Other(s)
Comments: 1000
Kudos: 1120





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a strange thing, sitting across from a man whose murder you’ve spent your life plotting, sharing a bottle of expensive scotch and smiling. Generations of Novaks and Winchesters are probably rolling in their graves. 

Dean Winchester doesn’t give a shit. The Hunters belong to him now. He will do whatever it takes. Even if it means sleeping with the enemy.

Literally.

“He’s an attractive young man, Mr. Winchester. I assure you. Let me show you a photo.” Chuck Novak begins to shift, ready to pull his phone out, but he stops when Dean puts a hand up. 

“It’s not necessary. The boy’s looks are insignificant to the deal on hand, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes. Of course.” Chuck gulps, and Dean almost laughs at him. This man was his father’s greatest enemy, at least until the head of The Demons murdered him. Dean had never met the head of The Angels before, but Dean’s father had always given the impression that Chuck Novak was a force to be reckoned with. Dean doesn’t see it. 

That doesn’t mean Dean will let his guard down. It’s likely the nerves are an act. 

Dean takes a sip of his scotch, staring down at the liquid after. He frowns. This isn’t what he wants to do. Not at all. But he talked it over with his second in command, Benny, and both agree that this is smart. It’s _necessary_. The Demons are the main issue on the table. An alliance between The Hunters and The Angels is the only solution. 

Dean just wishes the alliance didn’t mean he had to give up a major portion of his life. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not romantic. He didn’t plan to marry some great love of his life or anything, but with this marriage comes his bed, and Dean rather likes his current steady stream of sex. Kinky, violent, controlling sex. 

He hopes he can work out some sort of arrangement with Castiel Novak. Dean would never force or pressure Castiel for sex, but he thinks he might burst if he tries to go the rest of his life without it. If Castiel wants their marriage to be professional instead of sexual, that’s fine, but the sex issue will need to be rectified somehow. Dean Winchester does _not _do celibacy.

After a sigh, Dean looks back up at Chuck and rips it off like a band-aid. “I suppose there’s no point in drawing this out then.”

“I suppose not.”

“Then you will deliver him tomorrow. Benny, my second, will retrieve him. He can meet you here. I’d prefer 6 PM, but if another time needs to be set, that can be arranged.”

Chuck shakes his head. “6 works fine. What would you like to be sent with him?”

“Tell him to worry about personal items. Clothing will be taken care of, as will anything bedroom or toiletry related.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Winchester.”

“You as well. I know the youngest male in our world is valued. Your offer is highly appreciated, Mr. Novak.”

Chuck takes a drink, then leans forward. “How long of an engagement would you prefer?”

This is the main issue Dean is having. Part of him wants to get it over with and just marry the guy. The other part of him thinks it’s smart to do a trial period. “At least a month. Castiel and I can discuss dates.”

“Yes. Of course. As you two should.”

The two men stand up in unison, silently agreeing that the discussion is over. Dean buttons his suit jacket, adjusts his tie, and offers a hand to Chuck. They shake once, the movement curt, then step back from each other. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Dean.”

Not liking the use of his first name, as well as the smile Chuck gives him, Dean checks the man by responding with a smirk and a smoothly spoken, “Not the word I would use, Mr. Novak. But your son will most certainly be a pleasure of mine.”

Dean turns on his heel, leaving the stunned Chuck behind. He walks out of the building and nods at his driver, who gets out of the vehicle in order to open the door for Dean. With a quiet thanks, Dean slides into the backseat and settles back against the leather. 

Then he pulls up his favorite kink hookup app, and begins to search. This is his last night of unadulterated freedom. 

Dean’s making the most of it. 

\---- 

The picture frame breaks against the wall, shattered glass raining to the floor. Castiel picks up a second one, but his father catches his wrist, yanking the picture from his grip and pushing Castiel until his back hits the bedroom door. 

“Listen here, boy. You will not act like a goddamn child. You knew this was in negotiation.”

“And I told you no! Absolutely not! I won’t fucking do it!”

“Enough!” His father shoves off of him, staying just a few inches away in case Castiel lashes out again. “It’s final. We shook on it. If you go back on this, there will be blood. A lot of blood. _Innocent _blood, Castiel. Blood of your loved ones. Maybe Gabriel. Anna. Balthazar. Hannah.”

Castiel slumps, his eyes sliding closed. “Stop.”

“Are you sure? I can keep going.”

“Please get out of my room.” Castiel looks at him, his blue eyes full of flames. “For once in my bullshit life, let me fucking breathe.”

“Fine.” Chuck straightens his jacket and tie. Then his professional face slips, and the father Castiel used to respect and love returns. “Castiel, I’m sorry. For all of this. But it’s for the best. You know that.”

Castiel just grits his teeth and looks away. He’s so fucking sick of being told what’s best for him. The minute he made that mistake at sixteen, the minute he woke up in that hospital bed, the doctor telling him he failed, Castiel’s life has been controlled. It’s as if Castiel’s father thought that, if he added enough security, and kept Castiel locked up, and made every decision without even consulting Castiel, his depression and anxiety would go away. It didn’t matter that three different doctors told him Castiel’s issues were very much _real_. It didn’t matter that all three suggested medications and therapy. 

Novaks aren’t weak. They most certainly aren’t mentally ill. Castiel included. All Castiel needs is stability. Guidelines. Supervision. 

Unfortunately, Castiel hasn’t tried to kill himself since then. In Chuck’s mind, that means the plan is working. 

After a few seconds of the tensest silence of Castiel’s life, Chuck sighs, realizing Castiel isn’t going to speak to him. 

“Alright. I’ll leave you be. But you’ll be expected in the foyer at 5 sharp. No clothes, bedroom decor, or toiletries. Just personal items.” Castiel continues his silence, and Chuck finally leaves. Just before closing the bedroom door, however, Chuck whispers, “I’m sorry for this, son.”

When his father is gone, Castiel goes to his window. He slides it open and gets on the roof. His bedroom is too high up to ever jump to the ground in an attempt at escape - though not high enough where it’d kill him if he did so- something he always hated growing up, but at least this piece of roof connects his window with Gabriel’s bedroom window. Castiel needs his big brother right now. More than anything. 

Gabriel doesn’t even glance up when his brother slips into his room. He just continues to browse the porn site he’s on. 

“No need to fill me in,” Gabriel grumbles, clicking on a video of an orgy. “I think the whole house could hear that fight.”

“_Good_.” Castiel sits on the edge of his brother’s bed, ignoring the porn. He knows talking about it will just make Gabriel want to do it more. His brother enjoys making people uncomfortable. It’s better if Castiel just pretends he’s not bothered. “I’m not doing it.”

“Yes you are.”

“No. I am not.”

Gabriel pauses his video, turns in his chair, and sighs. “Cas, come on. We both know you’re going to do it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’ve dreamt of going away to college since you learned what college was. Then, after realizing how fucking amazing you are with music, you’ve dreamt of going to The Edlund Institute. But dad said absolutely not. Refused to even let you leave the house. Makes you take online classes. And you never fought it. You’ve been a legal adult for nearly a year now, and you’re still right here, miserable and angry.”

Castiel growls, then throws himself back on the bed. He can feel tears burning his eyes. Usually he’d fight the urge to cry, but now he couldn’t care less. His life is crumbling. 

He feels the bed dip as Gabriel lies beside him. Their shoulders press together, and Castiel finds himself smiling as tears fall down his cheeks. “I might miss you the most, Gabe.”

“You fucking better.” They both laugh softly. Gabriel has always been skilled at pulling laughter from people, even when devastated. “Maybe Winchester will let us visit.”

“You’ve heard stories of this guy. Does he fucking sound like the type to let me visit my brother when I’m lonely?”

Gabriel sighs. “No.”

“No. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get bored with me and kill me off or something.”

“He won’t murder you. You’re too important. This peace pact is something Winchester needs just as much as dad.”

Rolling onto his side, Castiel gets up on one elbow and rests a cheek on his open hand, looking at his brother. Gabriel is crying too. Not like Castiel, not openly, but his eyes are bright red around the edges and they’re glazed over. 

“I’m afraid,” Castiel admits. 

“I know. I’m afraid too, baby brother.”

Castiel picks at a thread from Gabriel’s comforter, ignoring how hard his hand is shaking. “Do you think he’ll make me… ya know?”

His brother’s eyes slide closed, and Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever seen Gabriel look so crushed. “I hope not. But he might, Cassie.”

“What’s it like?”

“Don’t know. Never had gay sex.” Gabriel tries for a smile, but it slips. That’s a first too. “Just be good for him, Cas. Behave. Maybe he won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah.” Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip, shrugging slightly. “Maybe.”

“Cas?”

“Yeah?”

Gabriel looks over at him, lips trembling slightly. “Promise me something.”

Shifting so he can meet his brother’s eyes, he says, “Okay.”

“I don’t care how hard it is to find a phone. I don’t care if he denies you any sort of outside communication. If you get bad again, even just a little bit, promise you’ll call me. Promise you won’t hurt yourself. I can’t lose you.” 

Castiel closes his eyes. He hadn’t even been thinking about that aspect of his life. The whole depression and anxiety thing had been put on the back burner while he panicked about the whole forced marriage thing. What will he do now when he wakes up empty? When he, for no reason at all, turns from happy to hopeless in a matter of hours? When he has a panic attack that hits him so hard, he throws up or passes out? Gabriel won’t be there to comfort him, or bring him junk food, or lay with him for hours in silence just staring up at the ceiling. Gabriel won’t be there to talk him through his attacks. Gabriel won’t be there to help him come down after them. 

Even the staff that Chuck hired is aware of Castiel’s issues. Castiel had hated that, feeling like they were constantly watching him and tiptoeing around him, but at least when he got dark or had an attack, they knew enough to get him through until Gabriel could show up and take over. 

Not a single person at Dean’s house will know. No one will be there for him. Will that be nice? A relief? Or will Castiel finally lose it?

“Promise me, Cas,” Gabriel whispers, his hand moving so his pinky finger is against Castiel’s pinky. “Please.”

“I promise.” Castiel shifts his pinky finger, wrapping it around Gabriel’s in a tight hold. “No killing myself.” 

The wording doesn’t go unnoticed by Gabriel. Castiel promised not to kill himself, but he didn’t say anything about not hurting himself. That coping mechanism will most likely come into play. It’s not often Castiel hurts himself, but they both know this upcoming period of time is going to be the hardest yet for Castiel. They’d be naive to assume Castiel can go without his crutch. 

Gabriel sits up, clapping his hands. That’s the Gabriel signal for a change in topic. A lighter change. He wants Castiel to smile. Things got too heavy. 

His brother grabs his laptop and brings it back to the bed. The two of them settle on their stomachs and look at the screen. 

“Let’s at least see what Winchester looks like.”

“How will you find him?” Castiel asks. 

“Uh, google, Cas. He’s a billionaire. It won’t be har - see.” Gabriel clicks on a link, then points at a picture. “There he is. Dean Winchester. 26.”

Castiel bites the inside of his cheek. The man is gorgeous. Hard features, a little rough around the edges, almost twice Castiel’s size, a sharp suit perfectly tailored, a tie ever so slightly loosened, cold eyes, lips twisted in the ghost of a smirk. 

“Well,” Castiel says, licking his very dry mouth. “He’s definitely more attractive that his father was.”

“Right? Hot damn.” Gabriel winks at Castiel. “I’m not even gay, but he’d be nice to experiment with.”

With a slap to his forehead, Castiel finds himself laughing again. He even finds himself joking, “Hey, now. Back off. That’s my future husband.”

“Sorry. Sorry. All yours.”

“Yeah.” Castiel pauses, looking at Dean again. It feels incredibly different than the first time he saw him. This time, Castiel notices the muscles that could crush crush him. The huge hands that could easily wrap around his throat. The danger in his smile. Castiel sees the rest of his fucking life flash in Dean Winchester’s photographed eyes. “All mine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future husbands meet. It doesn't exactly go... well.

Castiel feels like he might either throw up, or suffocate on his own oxygen, both of which he assumes Dean would not appreciate. When they arrive at the meeting place, Chuck has to help Castiel out because his legs are shaking so hard. Someone else takes care of his two bags as Castiel is led toward one of the three black vehicles. A man steps out of the middle one, and Castiel holds his breath. 

Except, it’s not Dean. It’s a stranger. 

Castiel can’t decide if he’s relieved, or more afraid. 

“Castiel, hello,” the man says with a kind smile, offering him his hand. “I’m Benny. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

When Castiel takes his hand to shake it, Benny frowns. Castiel can feel the man watching as he returns his trembling hand to his side. Benny definitely noticed he’s panicking. Castiel opens his mouth intending to say hello, but the words clog up his throat, and he has to swallow three times before he feels them disappear. 

Benny gives him another friendly smile and opens a door for Castiel, gesturing for him to climb in. “Whenever you’re ready. Take your time.”

With a shake of his head, Castiel hurries to get inside the car. He said the important goodbyes back at home. His father doesn’t even deserve a second glance, let alone a proper send-off moment. 

Taking Castiel by surprise, Benny slides in right beside him. He closes the door, adjusts his suit jacket, and pulls out his phone. Castiel watches without even hiding it, reading the text Benny sends. 

_Package received. In route. _

Castiel knows he should stay quiet. This guy could have orders to hurt him if he acts up. Or this guy could tell Dean, and Dean would hurt him. It'd be smart to wait. Act small and harmless. At least until he has these people, and this situation, figured out. 

Instead, he finds himself giving Benny a dirty look. "The _package_? Really? I'm a person, you know."

If this surprises Benny, it doesn't show. He just gives Castiel another soft smile. "You'll be allowed to pick your codename once you meet with security. Until then, since we do not use names in our communications, you are unfortunately the package. He's very aware you're human."

Castiel hadn't expected Benny to bring up Dean, and he's not sure what to say. He settles on pure information, wanting to avoid opinions or volatile topics like Dean. "Why do I need to meet with security?"

"Well, first of all, it's important you know how the team works. To know who to go to for certain issues. It will also be good for you to learn how the system and the guards at the housework." Benny glances at his phone, but he puts it down before Castiel can see what the message said. "Most importantly, though, you'll meet your personal security detail. That's when you can pick out a codename and slightly adjust their protocols regarding your safety."

"Slightly adjust?" Castiel asks with a raised eyebrow. 

"Yes. Mr. Winchester won't be letting you change much, I'm afraid. He is extremely strict when it comes to security, especially for you."

Castiel scoffs. "Why? I'm nothing to him."

"We both know that's not true. You are extremely important." Benny chuckles. "Besides, who knows, maybe one day you'll be more than just a vital component of the peace deal."

"This isn't a fairytale," Castiel grumbles, looking out the window. They're leaving the city, which makes him uncomfortable. His father lives in the city. He had always assumed Dean did too. Castiel clenches his fists, digging his fingers into his palms as hard as he can. It helps, but not much. He closes his eyes and focuses on the throbs of pain.

The rest of the ride stretches in silence. It doesn't take long, but it's too far away for Castiel's comfort. Far away from his family. Friends. Home. Everything he has ever known. 

"Right this way, Mr. Novak." Benny guides Castiel out of the car and up a stone path. Once again, Castiel's bags are taken care of by someone else. Castiel can't seem to care. His focus is on the fucking mansion they just pulled up to. He knew Dean was richer than his father. It's one of the reasons The Angels have been losing their hold on things. Castiel did not, however, understand Dean was _this _kind of rich. The mansion is twice the size of Castiel's, and it doesn't just have an outdoor pool and garden, but a yard that goes further than Castiel can see as well.

Castiel remains speechless as he's led between two tall pillars and through the large front door, into a grand foyer. The flooring is a beige, cream, and brown marble that's absolutely gorgeous with the intricate black iron spiral staircase, the black grand piano, and the crystal chandelier. 

Suddenly, Castiel feels extremely underdressed in his dark jeans and light gray chunky-knitted sweater. He has to remind himself he's a fucking Novak. Castiel is rich too. 

Just not… this rich.

Well, actually, he supposes he is now. What's Dean’s is his, isn't that how it goes? 

"Mr. Winchester would like to see you in his office. He will give you the proper tour. Right this way." 

Castiel doesn't even argue, just walking in a trance. With each step, reality sets in. He forgets about the stunning architecture. The pleasing decor. The stupidly beautiful spiral staircase. In just seconds, he will be meeting the man who basically bought him. The man he will have to marry. The man who now has the power to make his life a living hell if he so desires. 

They stop in front of a set of intimidating mahogany doors. Benny knocks three times, and Castiel feels each one echo in his chest. 

"Come in!" is barked from inside. Castiel expects Benny to follow the order, but the door doesn't open. 

When Castiel looks at the man, he finds Benny looking right back at him. The two stare for a few seconds before Benny gestures to the door. "Go on. It's not me he wants to see."

Before Castiel can process the fact he has to go in alone, Benny is turning away and walking back toward the foyer. Castiel forces himself to face the doors. His hand shakes terribly, but he manages to get a grip on the gold handle and pull. With a deep breath, he enters. 

\----

When the door finally opens, Dean holds his breath. He's in front of his desk, ass against the edge, legs kicked out with his ankles crossed, arms folded over his chest. It's casual. Relaxed. He doesn't want to intimidate the boy. And he is most definitely a boy. 18 or not, the way he practically tiptoes inside the office before softly closing the door makes Dean think of a small child about to get scolded. 

Dean's amused confidence vanishes when Castiel steps forward, the main light washing over him. He's glad he isn't fully standing because he's fairly certain his legs would have given out. Benny had told him to try and look this kid up, but Dean hadn't wanted to, just like he didn't want to see a picture from Chuck. It hadn't mattered. The marriage was happening either way. 

He should have looked at a fucking picture because the boy is fucking gorgeous. Like supermodel beautiful. A twink, definitely, but not so much skinny, more strong and toned. Strong enough to be used roughly. That messy hair of his would be perfect for gripping tight. Those blue eyes are so damn clear and innocent that Dean feels too dirty to even look at them. And those lips. _Cocksucking lips. _

The surprise is throwing Dean off so badly, he feels out of control. And Dean Winchester does not do well with not being in control. 

"Sit," he manages to order, nodding his head to the leather seat just a foot in front of him.

Castiel hesitates, but follows the order. He moves slowly, and usually, that would annoy the hell out of Dean, but at the moment he's grateful. By the time Castiel is sitting, looking up at Dean with a questioning frown, Dean feels like he's on solid ground again. 

"Castiel, it's a pleasure to meet you." 

"Oh - yeah. You too."

"Is it?" Dean cocks his head, smirking. Castiel blushes. "I heard a rumor you weren't at all happy with this arrangement."

Castiel links his hands together in his lap, staring at them. "It's not for me to decide."

"Must piss you off."

"I'm used to it. My life was never mine. It was always my father's." He peeks up at Dean through long lashes. "And now yours, I guess." 

The words cause pain to twist in Dean's chest, leaving behind an achy burn. "Your life will be your own with me, Castiel. All I ask is you share it. As I plan to share mine."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm not going to order you around. I'm not going to dictate every move you make. You'll have space. Freedom. Limited, yes, but that's for your safety." Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Castiel, I would like for us to be partners. Perhaps even friends. I think it'd be best that way. I don't want you to be the enemy."

Castiel picks at a non-existent hangnail. "Does that mean you don't expect me to love you?"

"Of course not. We've never even met before." It takes some effort for Dean to keep from adding that Castiel is more than welcome to fall in love if he would like, though. Dean certainly wouldn't mind. Especially if it meant having that body in his playroom. 

When Castiel goes quiet, frowning slightly, Dean decides to take a break from the heavy talking. "Would you like to see the house?" 

Nodding, Castiel stands up and turns toward the door. He waits for Dean to walk past him so that he can follow him, and Dean finds himself wondering if that means Castiel is naturally submissive, or if Castiel just knows Dean should be first since he knows where they're going. Dean's cock is hoping for the former. Things would be so much better if this guy wanted to fuck. 

As Dean walks Castiel through the main house, he points things out along the way. Castiel never speaks. 

"This is the kitchen. Help yourself any time. Breakfast and dinner are always served. Both at 6 during the week, AM and PM respectively. Breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays is served at 8. If you would like, you are more than welcome to sit down with Ellen, our housekeeper, and cook, and make whatever changes to the grocery list and meal plans you find necessary. As long as you're not some vegan or whatever. That I might have to put a foot down for."

Nothing. Castiel doesn't even smile. 

"Dining area. Pretty self-explanatory. We usually use it every meal. There are a lot of men and women that work at the house. The staff doesn't eat with us, but any Hunter members who reside here or are visiting will."

Nothing. 

"This is the living room. Help yourself to whatever you want to watch. We don't need to go down this hall here to the left, but so you know it's a guest wing. Most of the members live down there, besides my top members. This way leads to the entertainment part of the house." Dean points as he passes doors, not opening any of them. "Gym. Theatre. Library. The sports room, which is pretty much just a huge ass TV to watch games, a bar, and a pool table. This door leads to the basement. That's where the indoor pool is."

Still nothing. Not even the library had gotten a reaction, which disappointed Dean. He pegged Castiel to be a book nerd. Maybe he was wrong. Or maybe Castiel is just that upset about all of this. 

Worry starts to eat at Dean. He really hopes Castiel isn't truly upset. He gets this is a shit situation, but they're in it together, and things will be so much better for both of them if they can find a way to make it work. 

After Dean points out his office again, along with the offices of some of his higher-up members, as well as the meeting room for The Hunters to use when business needs to be conducted, Dean brings Castiel to the end of the hallway. "Through here is our indoor garden. No one really goes in there. My mother built it for herself. But it's there." 

Dean quickly turns away. He hadn't thought about his mother in a day or two, which is real progress. Sometimes he misses her so much he can barely breathe. He misses her more than his father, even though she died years before John. 

"Do you want to see our wing? Or would you like some time on your own?"

_There, now Castiel has to speak. _

Looking terrified to be given this choice, Castiel mumbles, "Might as well finish."

"That's the attitude," Dean says sarcastically. He didn't mean for any anger to lace through the words, but it's there, and he can see that Castiel heard it. 

Not wanting their first night to be bad, Dean tells himself to be nice. 

It takes a minute, but then they're approaching the massive wooden doors that lead to the Master wing of the mansion. An armed guard is standing beside them, and he nods at Dean while Dean walks up to the door and puts his hand against a censor. 

"When you meet with security, they'll program your hand to get in here. This area is extremely private. No security cameras like the rest of the house, no guards inside, and it's safe, I assure you, but you can be alone here any time you want."

Finally, Castiel reacts. It's just a nod, but Dean will take it. 

Dean points out the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen. For the first time, Castiel speaks willingly. "Another kitchen?"

"Yes. This is purely ours."

"But," Castiel pauses, eyebrows pulling in. "If no one else is allowed in, who cooks?" 

"Me."

Castiel's wide eyes snap to him. "You cook?"

"Absolutely. I love it. My guilty pleasure is the food channel. Especially baking competitions."

This makes Castiel smile. A genuine smile. Dean suddenly feels on top of the world. 

He shows where their own miniature version of the entertainment wing is. It's a small gym and a library that's more accurately just a large room with walls lined in bookcases and two comfy leather chairs beside a fireplace. 

Just as Dean is turning to bring Castiel to the final part of their wing, the bedrooms, Castiel asks, "What about that door?"

"Hmm?" Dean asks, faking confusion.

Castiel points to the door all the way at the end. "What's in there?" 

"Nothing of interest."

"No. Tell me." 

Dean is shocked at the level of authority in Castiel's voice. So shocked, he answers honestly. "It's my playroom."

"Playroom? Like in the main house? With a pool table and stuff?"

"No." Dean chuckles. "Like for sex."

"Oh." Castiel stares at the door. Then it clicks, and his cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink. "Oh!"

"Yes." 

"I - _oh_."

Dean quickly jumps in, not wanting to scare Castiel off. "I have no expectations of you ever going in there, Castiel. I did not make this deal with your father so I could have a sex slave. Even a man like me has boundaries. That's a huge one."

"Oh," Castiel says again, quietly, and Dean must be going crazy because it almost sounds like Castiel is disappointed. 

"Would you like to see the bedroom? Then you can do whatever you like for a while. I'm sure this whole thing is still a shock. You'd probably like some space."

Castiel looks at him with a mixture of confusion and relief. "Yes. I would love that. Thank you."

"Of course." Dean places a hand on the small of Castiel's back out of instinct, guiding the boy. 

He goes to pull away, an apology on his lips, when he realizes Castiel isn't affected by it. At all. The boy just continues to walk, eyes darting everywhere as he takes everything in. 

Out of curiosity, Dean keeps his hand there. Even when they stop in the final hall. "My personal office is that door on the very end. It's the one place in this house I would like you to stay out of. The office downstairs is free to you, not that I think you'd find anything there very interesting, considering I'm usually bored myself."

"Okay."

"This here is the master bedroom." Dean removes his hand from Castiel's back. He opens the door and steps inside, waiting for Castiel to join him. The boy looks nervous again. _Very_. His eyes dart around to the bed, the fireplace, the TV, the bed, the closet, the bed, the bookcases, the glass balcony doors, the bed. Dean clears his throat and awkwardly says, "The bathroom is through that door there. There's a walk in closet in there that I cleared out for you. You'll be able to pick out new clothes tomorrow."

Castiel says absolutely nothing. Dean's not even sure if he's breathing. "The decor can be changed if you want. I'm not picky."

Blue eyes stay locked on that bed. It's a California King. Plenty of room. But Dean can see the panic. He can see the way Castiel’s body is beginning to twitch and tremble. He can see the way his breathing is turning uneven and shallow. 

"Castiel, I don't expect anything from you here either. I meant what I said. I am not a man who forces sex. But you need to be in this wing. It's where I want you to be. And there is only one room in this wing. 

Biting his lip hard, Castiel slowly nods. After the most awkward minute of Dean's life, the boy finally asks, eyes still locked on that bed, "Can I have space now?"

Dean's heart breaks, and he doesn't even understand why. He just knows it hurts. Seeing Castiel like this hurts. 

It's probably just the future husband thing. Obligation. Nothing more. 

"Security wants to meet with you at 8. Dinner wasn't served tonight, I wanted the house calm and quiet for your arrival, but if you're hungry I can have Ellen make something. Or I'd be more than happy to make you something. Or help yourself, of course." 

Castiel shifts his weight on his feet. "Am I allowed in the main house? And outside?"

"Of course."

With a quick nod, Castiel is nearly flying out of the room, leaving Dean behind without any further explanation. Dean sighs, walking to the bed and collapsing on the edge of it. He puts his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands. Dean may not be an expert on arranged marriages, but he knows that didn't go well. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** Trigger Warning: Depiction of Self-harm

The panic attack had been crawling through Castiel's body since he saw the bed, but it didn't fully slam into him until he was running. Until he realized there's nowhere to run. Castiel ends up with his back against the wall of one of the many hallways, sliding down to his ass. Even with his body balled up, and his head between his knees, the waves of nausea continue to slam into him. Castiel's heart pounds in his ears. He can't breathe. He's lightheaded. Every muscle in his body jerks without his control. Little hitched breaths that are starting to sound awfully close to a sob make their way through his lips. 

Castiel doesn't want this. 

He doesn't want to be here. 

This can't be his life. 

His future. 

"Hey? Are you alright?" Nearly jumping out of his skin, Castiel snaps his head up to find a girl with red hair and black square glasses looking down at him. He tries to sink into the wall, wanting to disappear, but the laws of physics, unfortunately, haven’t changed. "Are you Castiel?"

Castiel clenches his fists, and nods. 

The girl smiles. It's bright and genuine, and Castiel doesn't want to trust it. "I'm Charlie! I'm head of security. Well, co-head. With a guy named Ash. We do the tech for everything too." 

Not knowing what to say, Castiel just nods. The panic is still there, thrumming right beneath the surface, and he’s afraid it’ll burst again. 

"Were you looking for something? Where were you trying to go?

On a choked breath, Castiel whimpers, "Away." 

"Away." She nods in understanding, then grins. "Can I show you one of my favorite places to go when I want to get away?" 

Biting his lip, Castiel nods. Just as he gets to his feet to join her, though, Dean turns the corner and finds them. He takes one look at Castiel's tear-soaked face, red-rimmed eyes, and twitching body, and stops in his tracks. 

"What's going on? What happened?" Castiel prepares for yelling or violence, because he knows Dean probably finds Castiel's feelings annoying and insignificant, but instead he's met with Dean's careful hands cupping his face, thumbs sweeping out to clean his cheeks. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?"

When Dean asks that last question, Castiel gets his first glimpse of the monster that lives inside Dean. It flashes in his eyes. But it's not there for Castiel, it's there for whoever could have hurt him, and Castiel doesn't know how to take that. 

"He's okay. Just a little overwhelmed," Charlie answers when Castiel can't get himself to. 

Dean looks conflicted. Almost pained. Then he's pulling Castiel into a hug, cradling the back of his head and pressing Castiel's face against his neck. Despite how he feels, Castiel finds his body relaxing. He melts into the hold, which earns him a pleased hum from Dean. 

His panic wanes. Castiel has no idea why, but it’s a fucking relief, so he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

"It's okay," Dean whispers in his ear. His thumb on Castiel's back is drawing tiny circles, making him relax further. “It’s going to be okay.”

Castiel can't remember the last time he was just _held _like this. 

Even Gabriel’s hugs are short. More of a quick assurance than a comfort like this. This is… nice. 

"I'm right here. I've got you. You're safe," Dean continues to say, sounding sure about his words. Confident in them. "I know you don't want to be here, but I promise no one will hurt you. That makes it a little better at least, right?"

The little hitch in Dean's tone gives away his hope, and Castiel nods. 

"We're going to figure this out, Cas. Me and you. Okay?" 

"Okay," Castiel whispers, his lips moving against Dean's skin. 

"Tell me what I can do. Right now. In this moment. Something to help." 

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the urge to beg Dean to just let him go. He tries to think of something else. Something little. Something that won't ruin how kind Dean is being. 

"Can I-" he stops, realizing how ridiculous he's going to sound. 

"It's okay. Ask me, Cas. Let me help. I'll give you anything I can."

Slowly, Castiel pulls out of Dean's arms. He can feel Dean's reluctance to let go of him, but it's only for a second. Castiel can't look at Dean's face yet, so he settles for staring at the knot of his gray tie. "Can I please go to bed?"

Since he can't see Dean's expression, Castiel doesn't know Dean's reaction to the question. All he knows is he hesitates before answering, and each second causes a painful twist in Castiel's stomach. 

"Of course," Dean says after a breath that makes his shoulders drop. "Absolutely. I - yes. Come with me."

Dean places his hand on Castiel's back, guiding him like he had done earlier. Just like then, Castiel doesn't mind it now. It makes him feel safe in a way, like Dean has everything handled, and Castiel just has to trust him. Why he already feels the urge to trust this man is beyond Castiel, but hand on his back or not, Castiel won't let his guard down. 

When they're back in the bedroom, Castiel is led past everything and into the bathroom. Dean turns the lights on with a dial, making them a comfortable level of brightness. Castiel's oversensitized eyes are grateful. 

Dean starts to point to things, even though Castiel is barely paying attention. The bathroom is fucking huge. And gorgeous. 

"- you prefer?"

Castiel jumps, realizing he was asked a question. "Sorry, what?"

This surprisingly makes Dean smile. "If you wanted to take a bath, I was saying you are more than welcome to use any of the soaps in the crystal bottles there for bubbles, and that shelf has shampoo, conditioner, all that stuff. But I can get you your own soaps if you prefer. You'll just have to wait a few minutes." 

Confused, Castiel looks at the huge tub. "I'm taking a bath?" 

"Not if you don't want to." Dean laughs. "I have two meetings tonight, so I won't be back in our wing until late. You'll have privacy, and I know it's been an extremely long day, so I thought perhaps you'd enjoy a hot bath first. But you are more than welcome to go straight to bed, Castiel. Or you could shower. Or anything else. Whatever you want."

Strangely enough, Castiel believes that. He honestly believes Dean would give him anything in his power. 

"A bath sounds nice," Castiel admits, wanting to meet Dean halfway here. 

Dean's smile is soaked in relief. "Perfect. It's a simple system, nothing fancy. Like I said, towels are here. Oh, shit-" 

When Castiel sees Dean's face fall, his stomach drops. "What?"

"Nothing. I just - well, clothes were tomorrows priority. I didn't think of tonight." Before Castiel can respond, Dean is smiling again. "No big deal. Help yourself to anything of mine."

"Oh." Castiel blushes at the idea of wearing Dean's clothes. He's never worn another man's clothes before, unless he's counting his brother's, which he isn't. Dean is going to be his husband, though. Surely borrowing a shirt isn't the worst that will happen. "Okay. Thank you."

Then it's Castiel's turn to remember something. "Oh no, I was supposed to meet with security."

"Nothing to worry about." Dean waves a hand when Castiel opens his mouth. "I'm serious. It can wait. Nothing earth-shattering is waiting for you. Make tonight about yourself, Castiel. It's been a long day." 

Feeling overwhelmingly grateful, Castiel's eyes begin to burn. Thankfully Dean makes his exit, leaving after sharing a final bit of information. "The phone by the bed is a secure line that only connects to other phones in the house. The number for my office is 1. The meeting room is 7. Call for _anything_, okay? Anything at all."

Then he's gone, and Castiel is standing in a bathroom that definitely fits with the home. He decides he will go crazy if he doesn't occupy his mind, so he wanders back into the bedroom and starts to browse the bookcase by the fireplace. Today feels like the kind of day to read an old book he already knows, so Castiel grabs _The Sound and the Fury_, hoping the familiarity will bring even an ounce of comfort. 

Of course, the bathtub is as overwhelming as everything else. Castiel has to take two steps to even get to the thing, and it's big enough to fit at least 4 people. When Castiel turns the faucet on, water begins to pour down the sides like waterfalls. He finds them calming to watch, and sits there for a while as the massive bath slowly fills. 

Grabbing the crystal bottles Dean had mentioned, Castiel sniffs each one. Then he pours a little of his favorite into the water, pleasantly surprised when it bubbles. 

It takes a minor pep talk to get himself to take his clothes off, even if Dean promised privacy, but he eventually gets naked. 

Castiel didn’t come into this room planning to hurt himself, he swears, but his eyes fall on Dean’s razor blades, and he reaches for them. It’s like he’s on auto-pilot. He falls into the routine, letting it wrap around him like a security blanket. 

First, he grabs a washcloth. 

He runs the water, making the rag damp. 

He sits on the floor. Legs stretched in front of him, slightly parted. 

He presses the corner of the razor against his palm, testing the sharpness. 

He takes a deep breath. 

He starts to cry. 

He keeps one leg straight, turning the other leg to press a foot against the opposite leg’s calf, making a triangle with his limbs. 

He traces the scars on the exposed inner thigh. 

He takes a deep breath. 

He cries. 

He cuts. 

He cuts. 

He cuts. 

He cuts. 

He takes a deep breath. 

He’s not crying anymore. 

He’s finally back in control.

\----

One of Dean’s favorite things is his meetings with his enforcers. These are the men who let him know who needs to be put in their place, and how they want to do it. The men who Dean can give a name to, and they’ll go handle it. It was always entertaining for him, in a sick and twisted way, to sit on a comfortable couch drinking scotch with his men while debating the pros and cons of kidnapping and torturing someone, or just outright killing them. Debating whether they should burn or carve their crest into the skin of the victim, sending a message, or if they should make it look like it’s not mafia related. 

Tonight, however, Dean wants nothing to do with this meeting. Every second he’s down here is a second he’s not with Castiel. Checking on him. Making sure he’s okay. Making sure no one is bothering him. Giving him hugs and comfort. Spoiling him. 

Dean had known this wouldn’t be easy, of course he knew that, but he hadn’t expected Castiel to be this upset. Sure, it’s a shitty situation, and Dean knew Chuck was probably forcing Castiel into this, but not to this scale. That boy is fucking terrified. 

He also didn't expect to care this much. Castiel is practically a stranger. Just a boy that now lives with him. A boy who is clearly hurting. 

Dean cares, though. He cares so much it hurts. 

That boy is _his_. 

And Dean's going to fix this.

“Sir?”

Dean lifts his head, blinking a few times before focusing on Ash and Charlie, his co-heads of security and tech. “Sorry, what was that?”

“We need a decision on what to do with that Carlson kid.”

“He’s the one giving freebies to his friends. Already got a warning,” Benny explains, knowing Dean’s mind isn’t on The Hunters right now. It doesn’t bother Benny, of course. That’s his job. To be here when Dean can’t be, even if it’s mentally instead of physically. 

“Grab him. Do a quick run-down. Scare the shit out of him,” Dean orders.

“Any limitations, sir?” Ash asks, writing something on his tablet. 

“Breaking a few bones is fine. Nothing to his head. Nothing permanent.” Dean stands up after saying this, buttoning his suit jacket and clearing his throat. “If that’s all, I’d like to get going.”

Everyone exchanges glances, a silent check around the room to see if anyone has more to add. When no one speaks up, all eyes fall on Dean. With a nod, Dean says, “Thank you all. Contact me with emergencies, but otherwise, go to Benny tonight for updates and any minor issues. Have a good night.”

Benny joins Dean, walking with him down the hall toward the personal wing of the house. Dean sees his best friend check over his shoulder twice before slowing his pace, forcing Dean to slow as well. 

“How’s Castiel?” Benny asks softly, concern laced in his voice. He’s been worried since he picked Castiel up, sending Dean a warning that the boy was shaky and close to tears. When Dean came down for the meeting earlier, he had updated Benny on Castiel’s break down, and Benny had been just as worried as Dean was. It had made Dean smile, like he finds himself doing now. It’s nice that his best friend, and right-hand-man, feels protective over Castiel. That’s vital. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Dean answers. “He hasn’t called me at all, or anyone else as far as I know, so nothing terrible could have happened. Or he didn’t call because he’s lying in a ball somewhere sobbing.”

With that thought, Dean runs a hand roughly through his hair, yanking the strands in frustration. 

Benny bumps him with his shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile. “It’s the first night. Things will get better. I have a good feeling about this.”

“If you say so,” Dean grumbles, not at all believing him. “I don’t know what to do to make this better for him.”

“Don’t push. Just give him space to breathe. Listen to him. Be patient. Kind. Let him know you’re there.”

“Now you’re just quoting rom-coms.”

Benny winks at him. “You know they’re my guilty pleasure.”

The two men stop just outside the door of Dean’s personal wing. Garth, the guard working the position tonight, nods at the two of them and leaves, turning the corner to give them privacy. As Dean puts his hand on the pad, unlocking the door, Benny squeezes his shoulder and tries to reassure him. “You’ve been the enemy, Dean. All his life, the Winchesters were the bad guys, the ones that would hurt him. Now his dad flipped his world upside down, and sent him away to be married against his will to one. Now Castiel will become a Winchester. It’s harder for him than for you. You had time to think about the offer from Chuck. You took two weeks before you decided. You get to stay in your home, with your own family and friends. You get to keep your last name. See where this boy is coming from, Dean.”

“I see where he’s coming from. I just don’t know how to fucking fix it, Ben.”

“Time.”

Dean scoffs. He’s not a patient person. Not in the least. The door clicks open and he pushes it with his shoulder, letting himself inside but stopping at the threshold to silently let Benny know he’s not invited in tonight. 

“Let Garth know he’s good to come back when you pass him, yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Benny gives Dean one of his signature smiles. “We won’t bother you tonight or at all tomorrow unless necessary. Have a good time with the bride to be.”

Flipping Benny off, Dean glares at him and says, “No one likes you,” before slamming the door in his best friend’s face. He can still hear Benny laughing from the other side, but he leaves the asshole behind, heading for his bedroom. Dean’s possibly never ran faster in his life. He forces himself to slow down as he approaches the bedroom door, not wanting to come barging in and scare Castiel. 

All the lights are off except for a lamp beside the bed. The sight he finds melts his heart. Castiel is asleep on top of the covers, wearing a pair of Dean’s sweatpants, and one of Dean’s old football shirts from high school that’s way too small for Dean now, but still drowns Castiel. He’d love to see the boy in something Dean fits in currently, since he's grown so much. Castiel would look fucking adorable. 

Not that he doesn’t look fucking adorable this way, too. 

An open book is squished beneath Castiel’s cheek. Dean leans down, hoping to sneak the book away and cover the boy with a blanket, when Castiel startles. Holding his breath, Dean looks up to see if the boy woke up. He’s met with two huge blue eyes staring at him in fear. If Dean weren’t frozen, he’d move to respect Castiel’s personal space. Unfortunately for Dean, he’s frozen. 

Castiel is just so goddamn _beautiful_. 

With a shaky exhale, Castiel asks in the tiniest voice, “Are you going to have sex with me now?”

“What? No. Not at all, Cas.” Dean’s heart nearly breaks at the amount of relief those words bring to Castiel’s features. It’s like he completely relaxes. 

“What were you doing, then?”

“I, well,” Dean blushes, feeling like a complete idiot. This is why he doesn’t do this. Sleepovers and feelings and relationships. He gets all nervous and clumsy. Give Dean a naked submissive and put a toy in his hand, and he’s smooth and confident. Give Dean an enemy and put a weapon in his hand, and he’s cold and controlled. Give Dean a beautiful boy in his bed drowning in Dean’s clothing, and Dean’s a fucking mess. He decides he should just admit the embarrassing truth. “I was going to tuck you in.”

Castiel just stares at him, not even blinking. After a few seconds of silence stretches between them, Dean starts to pull away. Castiel surprises the hell out of him, grabbing his tie and holding him in place. Dean pulls his eyebrows in, unsure if he should speak. 

He doesn’t have to. Castiel does. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not being who they all said you’d be.” 

Since Dean has absolutely no idea what to say to that, he stands up and awkwardly shuffles around a bit. “I need to shower. You should get comfortable. Go back to sleep.”

Then Dean is practically running out of the room, feeling dizzy from that interaction. He grips the edges of the sink, hunching over, staring at himself in the mirror. 

Dean is everything those people probably told Castiel Dean would be. Dean murders. Tortures. Sells drugs and illegal weapons. He’s killed with his bare hands. He’s had dinner with a man, including dessert, just to blow his head off after. 

He’s not good enough for someone like Castiel. Out of all the unfair things that Castiel has to endure because of this deal, that’s by far the worst. Castiel deserves so much better. 

Dean has to find some way to make it up to him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for talk of past suicide attempt**

No amount of exhaustion would make Castiel able to sleep in this bed. Even though there's a decent gap between him and Dean, he still feels overwhelmed by the man. His smell is everywhere - that light, citrusy scent that strangely reminds Castiel of the ocean. Each breath he takes rattles Castiel's ears. Every tiny shift of Dean's body makes Castiel's body ache for unknown reasons. 

Every nerve ending is on edge. He's certain if someone touched him right now, he'd burst.

"Can't sleep?" Castiel shudders when he hears the words spoken in that low, silky voice of Dean's that Castiel already loves. 

"No," Castiel answers, his heart pounding. "You?"

"No." 

He hears Dean shift, probably to his side so he can face Castiel. Sure enough, when Castiel moves the same way, they're looking at each other. The feeling that the entire world has stopped existing, leaving just them, suspended in this moment, washes over Castiel. 

Castiel isn't sure how much time passes, the two of them floating on their own plane of existence, but he knows one thing. He likes it. Here, they aren't a Novak and a Winchester. They don't have the weight of the world resting on their forced marriage. Castiel isn’t a man who got his life stolen from him. Dean isn’t the man who stole it. 

“Wanna know a secret?” Dean whispers. 

Suddenly feeling like a giddy teenager, Castiel smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“But after, you have to tell me one. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Alright.” Dean sighs dramatically, like it wasn’t his idea to share secrets in the first place. It makes Castiel laugh under his breath, which makes Dean grin. Then he locks eyes with Castiel, and his smile wobbles. “You’re the first man to ever sleep in my bed.”

Thinking Dean’s joking, Castiel teases back, “Well, I’m not exactly sleeping, am I?”

“Alright smart ass.” Dean chuckles. “I mean it, though. I’ve never had another man in my bed. Not even in my room.”

“Ever?”

“Nope.”

“Like, even when you weren’t in charge here? Or when you were younger?”

“Never.”

Castiel stares at him. He believes Dean, that’s not the problem. He can’t wrap his mind around it. Surely Dean has had sex. “What about the guys you hook up with?”

“They go home.”

“But you have sex in the bed first.”

“No. I don’t.” 

Castiel opens his mouth, about to say that’s ridiculous, but then he remembers the room from Dean’s tour. The sex room. “You only have sex in your playroom, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And they’re okay with that?”

“Of course.” Dean shifts a little, and Castiel swears he moves closer to him. “I don’t just go out to a bar and pick someone up. Well, I’ve done that once or twice, but then I go to their place instead. Usually I look for someone else in the community. That way I can be upfront about my expectations, and they can be about theirs, and everything is about the sex. No complications. When the sex and aftercare are over, on the bed or equipment in the playroom only, then my driver brings them home.”

Castiel’s confused. “The community? Like the mafia community?”

“No. The BDSM community.”

“Do you just put this bat signal out? Do you guys have secret signs? How do you find someone like that?”

“God, you’re cute.” As Dean chuckles, Castiel’s face starts to burn. He’s glad it’s too dark to see details like that right now. The last thing he wants is for Dean to think Castiel is affected by the joking compliment. “I use an app. There are plenty out there, but this one is very well-done. Background checks. Limits and kinks right there on the profile. No names if you want to use a fake one. The city is large, so there are plenty of options, but if I find someone that fits my expectations and they enjoyed themselves as well, we’ll usually keep in contact. Maybe get together from time to time for a scene.”

A headache starts to form in Castiel’s forehead. All he really cares about, though, is one thing. “Are you going to keep doing that?”

“What?”

“Finding people on that app. Having… ya know. Sex or whatever.”

“Oh.” Dean frowns, a deep sigh puffing out. “I suppose that’s something that we’ll have to talk about together. Make some sort of arrangement, maybe. Until you feel comfortable, of course, I would never bring someone here. But I’ll be honest. I’m not built for celibacy. If you don’t want us to be anything more than just friends, I’ll respect that, but then we gotta figure out something for sex.”

Castiel gulps. “Sounds reasonable.”

“Yeah?”

“I guess.” Castiel shifts, unconsciously getting closer to Dean. He suddenly feels possessive over him. The images of Dean sleeping with other people is making him feel things he can’t explain. “What do you want?”

“Regarding which part?”

Blushing, Castiel whispers, “I guess I wanna know what the ideal situation would be. For you.”

“Oh. That’s easy.” Dean smiles, and something about it is seductive and sexy even though it looks like all of his other smiles. “Us being together.”

Castiel’s breath hitches. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“Because it’s convenient?”

“No, Castiel. I am an extremely wealthy man with a plethora of people working for me. Convenience is never something I have an issue with. Trust me. I could have a sub waiting for me every day after work if I wanted to. All I’d have to do is talk to them on the app, then give Benny the necessary information. So, no. Convenience isn’t why you’re my ideal solution.”

“So, it’s the marriage thing?”

Dean laughs softly. “No. Though, that certainly factors in.”

“Then… why?”

“Really? You don’t know?”

Feeling like an idiot, Castiel shakes his head and admits, “No.”

Dean frowns, then forces a smile. “You’re right. It’s the marriage thing. Just, ya know. It’s easier. No having to worry about hurting other people’s feelings or awkward explanations to whoever I’m sleeping with when I walk them past my husband as I lead them to my playroom.”

“Oh.” Castiel tucks his chin, eyes fluttering closed. He’s disappointed, which is fucking idiotic. What did he want Dean to say? Did he hope Dean would admit to wanting Castiel? Liking him? That Dean would rather have sex with him than anyone else? Pathetic. 

“What would you want, Cas?” 

Castiel nearly jumps as Dean yanks him from his self-hate spiral. He blinks, trying to register the question, then tenses up. “Um. I don’t know. Can I think about it?”

“Oh, of course. Absolutely. Take your time.”

The silence that settles between them is so dense and suffocating, Castiel gets the urge to hop out of bed and make a break for it. Just as he’s weighing the pros and cons of that course of action, Dean shifts closer and whispers, “Your turn.”

“Huh? Oh. Right.” Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip, unsure. He hadn’t actually thought about the whole secret thing when he agreed to share one. He had just been hyper focused on hearing Dean’s secret. 

Taking a breath, Castiel steadies himself. He’s not sure if he’s comfortable sharing this secret, but he wants to try. Dean is making an effort to make this situation better. To get to know him. Castiel should try as well. “I tried killing myself when I was sixteen.” 

It feels like the air is sucked out of the room. Dean almost sits up, Castiel sees the movements, but then he lowers himself again. “No one told me that.”

“My father went to great lengths to cover it up.” Castiel puts his thumb to his mouth, biting the nail. It’s a nervous habit he hasn’t done in a long time. “I’m sorry if that changes things. If you don’t want me anymore. I’m sure-”

“That’s enough.” The cold, dominating voice sends a wave of goosebumps across Castiel’s skin. He swallows whatever nervous rambling words he was about to say, clamping down hard on his bottom lip to keep them from escaping. Dean shifts closer to him. At this rate, they’re going to be chest to chest soon. Castiel’s not sure if he likes the idea of that or not. 

Dean brings a hand up, making Castiel flinch. He pauses, letting Castiel calm, then continues moving it toward him. Dean gently pushes a few stray curls off Castiel’s forehead, then drags his fingertips down his cheek. His fingers push back until they’re buried in the hair at the back of Castiel’s head, leaving just his thumb where it rests against the soft skin next to his ear. 

As Dean strokes him with the pad of his thumb, the gorgeous man talks to Castiel in a low, soothing voice. “This affects nothing. Your worth does _not _change just because you struggle. I was upset for a moment, but only because I can’t help you or take care of you properly if I don’t know everything.”

Castiel closes his eyes. The touch on his cheek feels nice. “Okay.”

“Now, do you take medication?”

“No. My father doesn’t believe in that stuff. He said my depression and anxiety was something he could manage.”

“Well, fuck that. I do. You’ll get an appointment with a doctor. The best. The two of you can figure out what you need, I’m not trying to be a pill pusher. But you will be taken care of, Castiel. I assure you. Until then, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” When Castiel opens his eyes, he sees that Dean looks genuinely concerned for him. “I can’t imagine what this whole situation is doing to you. My god, Castiel. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

Castiel is speechless. He just stares at Dean. For a long time. When Dean starts to take his hand away, though, Castiel makes a soft noise in his throat and chases the touch. It makes Castiel feel stupid, but then Dean smiles, and Castiel finds himself smiling too. 

They stay that way for a long time. It isn’t until Castiel’s eyes keep betraying him, sliding closed only for him to have to force them open again, that Dean sighs softly. “We should get some rest.”

“Probably.”

Dean keeps his hand there until Castiel finally gives in, sighing softly as he lets his eyes close for the final time. Then he pulls away, returning to his own side of the bed, and whispers, “Goodnight, Cas.”

After a slight shift, he gets a sleepy mumbled, “G’ night, D.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've slightly neglected all of you the past month or so with finals and the holidays, and the next few weeks will be hectic too, so don't mind me while I throw lots of content at you all the next week or two <3 
> 
> Enjoy! (:

Dean’s a wreck. He wakes up before the sun even rises, rolling out of bed and tugging on workout clothes. Even after a six-mile run and an hour in the home gym, he feels like his entire body is vibrating with anger. Castiel is still asleep for breakfast, so he goes by himself. Everyone around the table is talking and laughing. It makes him furious. 

After, he starts to give the orders for the day. He took it off intending to spend time with Castiel, but now there’s too much to do. Everything is different. 

He will not lose Castiel. 

Castiel is _his_. 

After he’s barked orders for doctor appointments to be made, Dean goes to his office and buries himself in research. Pages upon pages of it. He highlights. He makes notes in the margins. He puts little sticky notes on anything he wants to speak to the doctors about.

Dean doesn't even notice Benny entered his office until his friend asks, “What has gotten into you?” 

"I can't talk about it. 

"What?" Benny charges toward him. "That's bullshit. We don't keep secrets, Dean. We never have."

"This secret isn't mine. It's Castiel's."

Benny pauses, then asks, "Can you tell me any of it?" 

Dean runs a hand through his hair, giving the locks a hard tug at the end. His mind churns as he looks at all the research spread out on his desk. "He has depression and anxiety."

Deflating onto the chair opposite Dean, Benny slips into problem-solving mode. "How serious is it?"

"Serious."

"Are we going to need to make changes in security protocol and surveillance?" 

"No. I don't want that. I don't want him to feel like he's being monitored. That'll just make things worse. For now, I got him to agree to a doctor appointment. His fucking piece of shit father wouldn't let him get any help. Can you believe that?"

Benny laughs a little. "Well, I mean, yes. I can. He's a terrible guy. And he used his son as a bargaining chip. Not the most loving thing to do."

Dean releases a pent-up sigh. “I never expected this, Ben. Out of all the issues that could pop up, all of the things that he and I would have to work through, this wasn’t it. I never thought I had to protect him from himself.”

Knowing where Dean's mind is headed, Benny warns, “Breathe.”

Dean tries. He does. But he can’t. He launches to his feet and starts pacing again. “What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t save him? What if I fail again?”

“Oh, Dean. Don’t go there.”

“Why not?”

“Because Castiel is not your mom.”

Feeling on the verge of tears, Dean looks his best friend in the eye. “How is it any different?”

“You were four when your mom killed herself. There was nothing you could have done. You definitely didn’t _fail_.” Dean just hangs his head and closes his eyes. Benny continues. “Castiel trusted you with whatever his secret is. Don't break that trust by blowing up and panicking. You have to relax. Treat him normal. Don't let this change things."

"But it changes _everything_."

“I disagree.” When Dean doesn’t respond, Benny asks, “Have you spoken to Sam about it?”

Dean cringes. “Well, I haven’t _exactly _told him about this whole marriage thing. Like at all. So... no.”

“Oh, Dean, I could kill you.”

“I’m sure Sam will be willing to help you out with that.”

With a sharp look that lets Dean know Benny is not in the joking mood right now, Benny orders, “You will call him. Now.”

“I’m sure he’s busy. It’s the-”

“Now.”

“I should probably check on Cas-”

“Now.”

The two best friends stare at each other. Then Benny arches an eyebrow and threatens, “If he doesn’t know by six tonight, I’ll tell him instead.”

“Well okay then asshole,” Dean growls, watching as Benny leaves like the conversation is over. He knows Benny is right. Sam is his rock. His sounding board. 

Sam is also his moral compass, and Dean doesn’t have to ask to know what he would think of this current situation Dean has found himself in. 

Too much of a coward to call his brother, Dean settles for sending a text, inviting him over for dinner tonight. When Sam accepts a minute later, Dean sends another asking him to come early so they can talk. 

It takes eleven minutes for Sam to answer. The message he sends is: _What have you done now?_

Yup. Sammy knows him well. 

\------

When Castiel wakes up alone, he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to run. Without Dean right in front of him, acting as some sort of anchor, Castiel is reverting right back to his anxiety from yesterday. His eyes fall on the glass doors that lead to the balcony. Dean never said he couldn’t go out there. It’s probably the closest he could get to freedom. Maybe some fresh air will make him feel better. 

There’s a burgundy knitted blanket thrown lazily over the bottom corner of the bed. Castiel takes it, wrapping himself in the warm material as he heads out to the balcony. The view takes his breath away. He knew they were no longer in the city, but he had no idea it was like this. Off in the distance past the few large trees in the backyard are three beautiful mountains, white and gray against the soft blue of the morning sky. With autumn creeping in, the colors are starting to change. Especially closer to the mountains. It’s like a painting. 

“Nice, hey?” Castiel nearly jumps out of his skin, turning to find Dean there. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel chokes out. He’s having a hard time calming his racing heart, but it’s no longer caused by Dean surprising him. It’s Dean himself. Standing there, looking like he walked out of a magazine. 

Castiel scans the man, taking in the black suit with the black undershirt and the black tie. Dark. So irresistibly dark. Dangerous. Sexy as all hell. Dean doesn’t seem affected at all by Castiel, though. He almost looks bored as he leans against the railing and assesses him. 

When their eyes meet, Dean asks, “What do you want to do today?”

“Oh. Um. I don’t know.” Castiel looks back at the mountains. They make him far less nervous. “What are my options?”

“Anything you want. At some point, you need to meet with your security team, but that can wait for now.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Dean makes a small noise, but Castiel still doesn’t look at him. “What would you do if you were back home?”

Laughing softly, Castiel says, “Whatever my father tells me I should do. Unless he’s distracted or out of town. Then I read, or binge shows on Netflix. Play the piano. Mess around on my guitar. Bother my brother. I dunno.”

“You play piano and guitar?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you be willing to play for me sometime?”

Castiel shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah. Sure.”

“We only have the piano, but if you give me a list of instruments, I’ll buy some for you. We can make you a studio if you’d like. 

Finally giving in, Castiel looks at Dean. “Seriously?”

“It’s your house now, Castiel.” Dean smiles softly at him, his green eyes bright. “Whatever you want to do, we can do.” 

“Oh.” Castiel bites his lip, feeling confused but hopeful. “What are my rules here, Dean?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can I leave? Can I get a job? Go to school?”

The smile on Dean’s face slips. “You can leave with your security. No job, not right now. Same goes for school. You could take online classes if you wanted, though.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles. “So you’re going to be just like my dad.” 

“Castiel-”

“No. No. It’s fine. I get it. One prison for another. At least this one has a better view.” Castiel tightens his blanket around his shoulders as if it can keep him safe from Dean. “Can I just get this damn security meeting over with so I can go on with my day?”

Dean looks out at the yard, then back at Castiel. “Yes. Of course.” 

“Great. I’ll get dressed.”

“Okay. You can wear anything from my closet, though they might-”

“No thanks. I’ll wear my own clothes.”

Dean winces. “I took them to get laundered. I’m sorry.”

Castiel stares at him for a few seconds, then pushes past him. He walks through the bedroom, down the hall, and out in the open area that has the door to the main house.

“Where are you going?” he asks as Castiel opens the door, taking advantage of the fact that it doesn’t lock from the inside. 

“The security meeting.”

“Like that?”

“Yup. Got a problem with that?”

“No.” Dean sighs in frustration. “Can you slow down? You don’t even know where you’re going.”

Castiel shoots him a glare. “I’ll find it eventually.”

“It’s not an ‘it’ you can find, Cas. I have to tell the people to meet somewhere. And then they have to actually meet. You’re looking for something that currently doesn’t exist. If you-”

“Shut up!” Castiel drops the throw blanket so he can press his hands against Dean’s chest and shove him. 

Dean stumbles back, shocked at first, but then he just looks hurt. “Cas-”

“Stop! Just fucking stop, okay? I’m here. I’ll marry you. We’ll co-exist. But unless you have something important to discuss, leave me alone right now.”

“You don’t even know where you’re going! You don’t even know who is on your team!”

“I’ll figure it out!”

“Just let me fucking help you!”

“Just let me fucking breathe!”

“Woah. Hey. What’s going on here, guys?” Castiel turns his head to find Benny rushing over to them, hands up. The second Dean turns his attention to Benny, opening his mouth to explain, Castiel is running again. He hears Dean swear, but Benny says something about leaving him alone, and it must work because he’s no longer being followed. 

Castiel’s aware he’s stubborn. Sometimes stupidly so. This might be one of those times, as he aimlessly walks through the halls of the house, but he doesn’t care. He’s determined to do this on his own. 

Eventually, Castiel finds the kitchen. A woman he hasn’t met is cleaning the counters. She looks up when he enters, giving him a smile. “Hello. Are you Castiel?”

Annoyance flickers in Castiel’s chest at the fact that everyone probably knows who he is and why he’s here, making him feel like some mail order bride that’s Dean’s property to flaunt around, but this lady seems nice. Maybe she can help him. 

“Yes. Good morning.”

“Good morning. I’m Ellen. Would you like some breakfast? There are leftover pancakes, but I’m more than happy to make you something fresh. Anything you want.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m not hungry.” It’s not a lie. Castiel hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, before he was handed off like a prize. Yet, he’s not hungry. He just feels empty. 

Castiel is giving up. This isn’t any better than his own house. Dean isn’t any better than his father. Castiel was a fucking idiot to hope otherwise. 

“Ellen?” Castiel asks cautiously, ready to get this thing over with so he can go hide out somewhere. 

“Yes?”

“Is there any chance you would know who the head of my security team is? And maybe where I could find them?”

If this is crossing a line, Ellen doesn’t show it. “You should talk to Charlie or Ash. Charlie can usually be found in the tech room down that hall there. Ash can usually be found, well, napping. Anywhere. I suggest you look for Charlie.”

Castiel nods. “Okay. I think I met her yesterday. Red hair, black glasses?”

“That’s her! She’ll get you squared away.”

“Thank you, Ellen.”

“Of course.” Ellen tilts her head as she looks at him fondly. It reminds Castiel of his mom. The sudden memory leaves an ache in his chest. “It was nice meeting you, Castiel.”

Feeling his eyes burn, Castiel just gives her a tight smile and nods. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to be with Gabriel. They could lay on Gabriel’s bed, flipping through his tinder account for that night’s prospect. Gabriel would make him laugh. Castiel would try to get his brother to actually date for once. Then they’d both be laughing. 

Castiel bumps into someone, the impact jarring him from his memories. He blinks up to find Charlie smiling down at him. 

“I’m starting to think I’m bad luck for you. Twice now, I find you crying.” 

Unaware that he had been crying, Castiel hurries to wipe his eyes and cheeks. “Sorry. I’m a mess.”

“Aren’t we all?” She throws an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and smiles at him. There’s no pity or concern or any other annoying emotion. It’s just a smile. Genuine. Refreshing. “Let me guess, you’re here to learn about your security?”

“Yup.”

“Try to sound less enthused. My goodness. Someone might think you’re weird if you keep this excitement up.” Charlie’s teasing makes Castiel laugh softly beneath his breath. He relaxes as she guides him toward a door. He likes Charlie. She reminds him of Gabriel. 

Liking Charlie doesn't change anything, though. 

Castiel isn’t clinging to hope. He’s still empty. He still thinks this whole situation is bullshit. But for the time being, at least, he has someone he likes nearby. It’s comforting, in the same way it’s comforting to find out you’re going to die soon when you’re suffering. Charlie will get him through this stupid meeting. Then he’ll find somewhere to disappear. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll just go hide under a rock now...

Dean is not at all prepared to speak with Sam. He spent the whole day checking security cameras for Castiel, or bobbing his head into different rooms if the boy disappeared inside the personal wing. As far as anyone in the house knows, he hasn't eaten. He hasn't talked to anyone since his morning's security meeting. He hasn't _done _anything. Castiel just wanders or sits somewhere staring off at nothing. 

Dean doesn't understand what he did, or how he can fix this, and having Sam here isn't giving him time to figure it out.

When Sam arrives, Dean is having a drink in the entertainment room with Benny, Ash, and Jo. He excuses himself when he sees his baby brother standing in the doorway with a smirk. The second he's in earshot, Sam teases, "What did you do now?" 

"It's nothing illegal. I need you here as my brother, not my lawyer."

With most people that would be good news, but with Sam and Dean, that spells trouble. It's rare Dean lets himself lean on others, even Sam. They're best friends, yeah, but Dean always felt like the father, and he doesn't think fathers should burden their kids.

"Walk with me?" Dean asks, nodding toward a door that leads outside. 

"Sure." 

The two shrug off their jackets and remove their ties, rolling sleeves and undoing buttons. It's a warm day. Plus, they want to be comfortable. Especially Dean. This conversation will be hard enough as it is

"So, you gonna tell me yet?"

"Yeah. I - yeah." Dean takes a deep breath, looking off at the mountains. "I'm getting married."

"Funny. I'm serious, Dean. Tell me."

"No, _I'm _serious, Sam. I'm getting married." Dean glances at him, then quickly looks away. "I made a deal with Novak. You knew we were negotiating. We had to come up with a way for both of us to ensure that we wouldn't double-cross each other. We agreed on Castiel, his youngest, coming to live here and us getting married. As a way to bridge an alliance."

A hand grips his bicep tight enough for Dean to hiss through his teeth, yanking him back and forcing him to stop walking. When he makes eye contact with Sam, he wishes he hadn't. His brother is disgusted. 

"Tell me you're lying. Tell me you did not agree to some fucked up medieval arranged marriage."

"Sam-"

"Oh my god! Dean, what the fuck? Did this Castiel even get a say? Is he okay with this?" Dean locks his jaw and looks off at the mountains again. His little brother huffs an incredulous laugh. "Fucking hell, Dean. Fucking - you can't do this. This is a step away from sex slavery."

That pisses Dean off. "The fuck it is! I'm not having sex with him unless he's willing. I told him we can just be friends."

"Oh, wow, yes. That's what he wants for the rest of his life. No chance at true happiness. No chance at a future with someone he actually loves." 

"Not appreciating the _sarcasm_, Sam!"

"Not appreciating your _decision_, Dean!"

"It's under control. He'll come around." When Sam says nothing to this, Dean looks at him again. Sam is giving Dean his classic bitch face. "I made the deal, Sam. I can't go back on it. Novak wouldn't allow it. This is _necessary_. Think of how many people it will save. How much blood will go unspilled."

Sam tucks his hair behind his ears, the wheels frantic in his brain. "You're not forcing him here, right? Like he can leave if he wants?" 

"Sure. If he brings security, he c-"

"No, Dean. I mean, if Castiel does not want to live here, and does not want to marry you, can he leave? Can he get out of this deal?"

Dean looks at the ground, ashamed. "No."

"You fucking bastard."

"Look, we all make sacrifices in this line of work! He should feel lucky it's not something worse. He could be raped. Or kidnapped and held hostage. Tortured. He could be killed. Or married off to some piece of shit." Laughing, Sam just shakes his head and starts to walk away. "Where are you going?" Dean calls.

Sam keeps walking, shouting over his shoulder, "Away from you."

\----

At some point in the afternoon, Castiel wanders into the kitchen to get a drink of water. A man is there, sitting at the long breakfast bar drinking a beer. His eyes immediately lock onto Castiel in a way that makes the boy extremely uncomfortable. Castiel just turns his back to him, opening and closing cabinets to find a glass. 

"Can I help you find something?" the man asks in a gentle voice. 

"Just looking to get a glass for water." 

"There are bottled waters in the fridge if you'd prefer."

"Oh." Castiel walks toward the fridge, risking a glance over his shoulder. The man looks at him like he's confused, and maybe even worried. Castiel might take a little extra time staring into the fridge just to avoid seeing that look again. It was very close to pity. 

Just as Castiel is closing the door, Dean comes barging in, guns metaphorically blazing. 

"Sam, you can't just storm off like a fucking child! We were- _oh_." Dean's voice falls off, his muscles relaxing as he sees Castiel. His eyes turn soft, his lips forming a tentative smile. "Castiel. Are you joining us for dinner tonight? Should be finished soon." 

Not trusting his voice, Castiel just shakes his head. 

"You should really eat something." Dean grimaces. "Have you eaten since you arrived?" 

"Not hungry," Castiel says with a shrug. 

"You have to eat."

"There are a lot of things I apparently _have _to do, Dean. Eating when I'm not hungry isn't one of them."

Castiel hurries toward the other side of the kitchen, where there's a hall that leads to the personal wing. He's actually getting this place memorized, surprisingly. Castiel only got lost twice today. 

"Castiel-"

"Leave him alone," Castiel hears the other man growl. Whoever he is, Dean listens to him. Castiel knows the freedom won't last long. He makes sure to hurry to the personal wing, ready to just hide under a ton of blankets. He had to do the hand scanner twice before entering the code to be let in since he's shaking so hard. 

\----

Castiel is woken up when he starts to move. At first, he grumbles and tries to get comfortable, assuming he’s just tossing in his sleep. Then his stomach drops like he went over a dip in a road, and he jerks. 

“Shhhh. You’re okay.” Without his permission, Castiel’s body relaxes at the sound of Dean’s voice. He’s too tired to think about that. Even when Castiel feels himself getting put in the bed, he doesn’t complain or fight it. Sure, he was determined to sleep on the couch tonight, but that was a silly idea. This mattress is much more comfortable. 

Still half asleep, Castiel squints up at Dean in the dim lighting. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Dean asks softly, his hands traveling along the sides of Castiel’s body. It’s not in a sexual way, though. The touch is more like a body scan, as if Dean is checking to make sure he’s still intact. 

“I acted like a child today.”

“You have every right to act however you want, Castiel. I’m so sorry I accepted this deal with your father. I was not aware that you were this against it. But that’s my fault, Castiel, not yours. We should have met before the deal was finalized. You should have been included.”

Since Castiel agrees, he remains quiet. Dean doesn’t leave his side. He just sits on the edge of the bed, a hand resting on Castiel’s stomach. Dean’s fingers twitch a little, and when Castiel looks up, he sees Dean is smiling. 

“What?” Castiel asks, nervous. 

“I know you didn’t want to wear my clothes again today, but I like you in them. Quite a lot.”

Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip, trying desperately to fight back a blush in case Dean can see in the low lamp light. “They’re comfy.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to wear them any time”

“Noted.”

Dean looks away from Castiel, his eyes traveling around the room. “It may be fancy, but it really is a prison, isn’t it?”

For some reason, Castiel feels guilty. Not enough to lie, though. “Yes. It is.”

“College. You would like to go to college, correct?”

“Yeah. But not online classes, so don’t bother. Studying music without being in person is just stupid.”

“I’m not speaking of online classes.” Dean continues to stare at the wall. “I could get you a meeting at The Edlund Institute. I'm on boards with a lot of their faculty members, and the president is a close family friend. I can't get you in, of course, but I can get you started. If you’re interested.”

Castiel’s mouth goes dry. “I - you mean, I could actually go to campus and classes and stuff?”

“Well, depends on what your definition of stuff is, but yes. I assume The Edlund Institute would want you to be attending in person."

"I - I'm probably too rusty."

Dean shrugs. "So, get un-rusty."

Castiel stares at him in shock. This is too good to be true. He doesn't trust it. Dean must have an agenda. Castiel's father always did. “What changed your mind?”

“My brother. One can only be hit over the head and called an asshole so many times before he breaks.”

Realization dawns on Castiel and he asks, “The guy in the kitchen earlier, was that him?”

“Yes. His name is Sam. He’d love to meet you properly some time.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” Castiel really wishes Dean would look at him. He picks at the blanket nervously. “Thank you, Dean. For The Edlund Institute. I mean, I know I might not even get in, but just the chance. Just to know. You have no idea what it means.”

"I'm sorry it's all I can give you right now."

"It's a start." Castiel suddenly feels like he should give Dean something back. But what? He has nothing to offer. There's nothing Dean can't have. 

Except… 

"Dean?" 

"Yeah, Cas?" 

"You could - I mean, it wouldn't upset me if," he clears his throat, knowing his face is turning red. "If you wanted to bring someone here. For your - uh, your playroom. You could."

Dean stares at him. "Like a stranger?" 

"Whoever. I mean, you have that app, right?"

"Right," Dean's voice cracks, so he clears his throat and tries again. "Right. Yes. The app." 

"It's not like it's cheating anyway. We're nothing."

Dean rears back like he's been hit. He locks eyes on the wall again, his jaw popping. "Right. Nothing."

It's clear he upset Dean, which wasn't his intention. Castiel meant to give him a gift."Dean, I-"

"Go to sleep. I'll be back later."

"Where are you going?" 

"Does it matter?" Dean barks, not even looking back at Castiel. "We're _nothing_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever !


	7. Chapter 7

No one on the app tonight is interesting. They're all taller than Castiel, or larger. No one has messy black curls that would feel like silk in his fingers. No one has wide blue eyes. 

No one has Castiel's fire. His attitude. His kindness. His stubbornness. 

But Castiel isn't an option.

_They're nothing. _

Dean's such a fucking idiot. Why did he think anything different? They've known each other a day and a half, and Castiel spent nearly the whole time hating him. But even with the fight this morning, Dean had thought something was starting between them. The conversation they had the night before, sharing secrets and gentle touches. And then tonight with the olive branch they extended. 

But Dean was wrong. 

_They're nothing. _

After messaging back and forth with a sub he's played with before, Dean goes to find Benny. He's sitting in the living room with Ash, Charlie, and Sam. A hockey game is on the TV, but none of them are paying attention. They're all wrapped up in a story Ash is telling. When they notice Dean standing nearby, they all fall quiet. 

Sam glares at Dean. Dean avoids eye contact with Sam

"Benny, you busy?"

"Not at all, boss. Whatcha need?"

"I'm going to send you an address. His name is Ethan. Do the usual." Everyone just stares at him. Dean doesn't have the energy for their judgement. "Benny. Go."

Benny stands up and asks, "What about Castiel?"

"What about him?" Dean snaps. 

Sam stands up next. "How about the fact that he's your fiance?" 

"Sam, stay out of this."

"Sam is right. You made a promise."

"Benny. That's. Enough."

When Benny and Sam just glare at him, and Charlie and Ash stare awkwardly at the floor, Dean growls, "It was his fucking idea. We have come to an agreement. And it's not any of your fucking business. Now, Benny. Go get Ethan. Bring him up to me. Sam, go home. End of discussion." 

Dean turns on his heel and storms up to his bedroom. He always showers before a scene. Sure, he could use a different bathroom, but Castiel doesn't care what he does. It shouldn't bother him that Dean is cleaning up to prepare for sex with someone else. 

_They're nothing. _

Nothing at all. 

He's probably asleep anyway. 

Except he's not. Castiel is wide awake, his back against the headboard, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He's staring at the outlet across the room. The boy doesn't even flinch when Dean walks in. He's not sure Castiel is even aware Dean is there. 

Unsure what to do, Dean stays in place and just rocks on his feet, watching him. At some point, Castiel blinks. Then he blinks several more times quickly, as if he is trying to refocus them. He catches Dean then, his body tensing. 

"Hi," he whispers, his voice raspy like he's been crying. 

Guilt floods Dean's system. "Hey."

"Coming to bed?" 

The pure hope in Castiel's question nearly drops Dean to his knees. He has to look away to answer. "No, just taking a quick shower." 

"Oh. I can never do that. Go to bed after a shower. I hate sleeping on wet hair."

Dean wants to sit across from Castiel and ask him what else he hates. He wants to talk all night. He wants to learn everything he can about him. 

_But they're nothing. _

So he says something that will hurt Castiel instead. Hopefully as much as Castiel hurt Dean. "I'm not coming to bed after the shower. I'll be in the playroom with a guest."

The look on Castiel's face resembles the expression he had before Dean hugged him yesterday in the hall, pain and panic etched into every feature. Castiel sniffles, nods once, and then rolls to his side so his back is to Dean. 

Dean walks to the bathroom feeling hollow.

_They're nothing. _

So why the fuck doesn't it feel like that? 

\----

He knows it's wrong. Dirty. Weird. Perverted. But Castiel still finds himself sitting with his back to the wall of the hallway, just inches from the playroom door. 

At first, Castiel was strong. He blocked out emotions after Dean's comment before his shower. Told himself he doesn't care. 

Because he doesn't. 

_Because they're nothing. _

But then Dean came out of the bathroom in jeans, and he had never seen the man in jeans. They looked worn. Soft. They hung loose on his hips. 

He was also shirtless, and Castiel discovered that Dean has tattoos. Sexy tattoos. He left the bedroom without covering them up.

And then Castiel's mind was forming pictures of Dean dominating someone looking like _that_. Wearing those jeans, tattoos covered in sweat, hair messy. 

Kissing them. 

Touching them. 

Fucking them. 

Castiel even held it together when the 'guest' arrived. He heard the knock echoing through the wing. _Their _wing. His and Dean's. Not whoever this guy is.

_But they're nothing. _

So Castiel stayed in bed. He listened to Dean lead the guest down the hall. Listened to low rumbling voices saying words he couldn't understand. And Castiel was fine. Really. He was. 

Then approximately eleven minutes later - not that Castiel was counting, because he most certainly wasn't - the noises started. Whimpers. Moans. Shrieks of pain. Sobbed pleasure. 

And Castiel broke. Just a few cracks. Nothing severe. But it was enough. 

Next thing he knew, he was sitting in a ball like he is now. Knees drawn up, cheek resting on them as he stares at the door. Wearing Dean's clothes. Wrapped in one of Dean's blankets. Listening to the sounds of Dean having sex. Kinky sex. The kind of sex Dean wants. Needs. The kind of sex Castiel will never be able to provide. 

Listening to Dean get pleasured by someone else hurts worse than Castiel could have imagined. It yanks him out of the blank, detached mindset he had been in all day and plunges him straight into a whirlwind of confusion, pain, and grief. 

And it was all Castiel's idea.

All his fault.

Castiel is a fucking idiot.

He has no idea how long he sits there listening. None of it makes any sense. There are muffled words, sounds he can't place, but Castiel can't even imagine what it all looks like. He's never even watched kinky porn. All he's seen of it is glimpses when Gabriel is being weird. 

He wonders if Gabriel could help him. Maybe Castiel could learn about this stuff for Dean. It's just sex, right? They'll be married anyway. 

Laughing sardonically, Castiel buries his face in his hands. Who is he kidding? He's a fucking virgin. 

Castiel doesn't hear the playroom open in time. His reaction is so late that he doesn't even try getting to his feet, just staying there looking fucking pathetic. His eyes lock with Dean's, who looks surprised but also curious. Then Castiel moves his gaze to the left, where a man is standing just behind Dean. He looks wrecked in the best way, and tears spring to Castiel's eyes.

"Sir?" the man says quietly, confused eyes locked on Castiel. 

"Go wait for me at the door, Ethan."

"Yes, sir.” 

Dean watches Ethan leave, but Castiel watches Dean. The top button of his jeans is still undone, his happy trail curling with sweat. His hair looks like hands have been running through it - whether they were Dean's hands or Ethan's, Castiel doesn't know. He doesn't have any marks like Ethan did. No sucked red blotches or places he was clearly bitten. But those tattoos. Castiel isn't sure if a tattoo kink exists, but he thinks he's experiencing it as he sees the ink under Dean's sheen of sweat. 

"Castiel. Stand up."

Castiel almost snaps at Dean, telling him he can't boss him around because he's not one of his stupid bdsm buddies, but he doesn't. He just listens. As he stands in front of Dean, looking at the ground between them, Castiel feels like a child about to be scolded. 

Maybe Dean will spank him. 

Castiel's cheeks flood with the unwarranted thought, and he has to clamp down on his bottom lip to stop from moaning when his dick twitches. It gets harder to stay under control when Dean backs him into the wall, not stopping until Castiel is firmly pressed into it by Dean's front. Dean's nose slides along Castiel's cheekbone before the man rumbles in his ear, "Like the show?"

Castiel can't do anything but whimper. He's painfully hard now, and he knows Dean is aware. His boner is pressed against Dean's right thigh, and it's not shy. 

A hand rests on his hip, then slowly begins to travel up his sides. It's so seductive, and Castiel isn't even naked. A low chuckle makes Castiel finally release that moan he's been holding in. 

"You would've enjoyed it more if you had been inside the room, you know. Much more fun if you can watch."

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to watch. He wants to be the one performing with Dean. 

"You'll go in our room now. Fold that blanket and put it away. Sit on the chair beside the fireplace. Don't. Move."

Unable to speak, Castiel just nods. He waits for Dean to move, but the man doesn't. Dean just pulls back a few inches, enough to look at Castiel's face, and so many emotions are in his expression that Castiel is overwhelmed. 

With one more look, Dean steps back and points toward the bedroom. It's a silent order. Castiel follows it. 

He does everything he was told. When Dean comes in a few minutes later, he looks overly pleased to find Castiel in the right chair, blanket put away. Dean doesn't stop though. He just strolls by him and orders, "Stay."

Just as Dean gets to the bathroom door, Castiel gains his bearings, breaking free of whatever spell Dean had put him under. 

"I'm not a dog, and I'm not one of your playthings either. Don't treat me like one."

Dean pauses, then slowly turns to face him. His grin is wicked as he stalks toward Castiel. "But you want to be, don't you Castiel? Maybe not all the time. But you aren't fooling me. You want to be in that room. You want to know what it's like to be him. You're desperate to give me that control and see what happens."

"No I'm not. I couldn't care less." 

"Then why were you in the hall?" Dean is in front of him now, placing his hands on the arms of Castiel's chair so he can hover over him. "Hmmm? No answer?"

"I just - I wanted to-" Castiel stops, shaking his head. It's not even that he doesn't want to tell Dean the truth. It's that Castiel doesn't know the answer himself. He doesn't understand any of these feelings he’s experiencing. 

"Did listening to us get you hard?" Dean asks in a low growl, one hand reaching out to run up Castiel's inner thigh. 

Castiel whimpers. "No."

"Not at all?" 

"N - not you two. Didn't like you two." Castiel closes his eyes, shivering as Dean brushes his hand ever so gently over his sweatpants covered cock. 

"So, listening to _me _got you hard, hmm?" Dean leans forward until they're cheek to cheek. His stubble scratches Castiel's oversensitive skin as he whispers into his ear, "Did you picture yourself in there with me? Did you get hard thinking about the things I could do to you in that room?"

"N-no." Castiel balls his hands into fists. "I just - I didn't like him here. It - this is our space. That's all."

Dean pulls back, smirking down at him. "Are you jealous of Ethan, Castiel?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" 

"You're mine!" Castiel suddenly shouts. "There's no reason to be jealous of him. He has to go home now. You'll be in _my _bed tonight. You'll be _my _husband."

The seductive teasing drops as both of them process Castiel's words. Before Castiel can take them back, Dean grabs his face and kisses him hard. When Castiel melts into him instead of pulling away, Dean grabs a fistful of hair with one hand and uses the other to cup the side of Castiel's neck, keeping him perfectly in place. He doesn't stop until he has Castiel breathless. 

Dean stands up, looks Castiel directly in the eye, and says, "You're right. I'm yours." Then he walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. 

Castiel stays glued to the chair, two fingers pressed to his lips. He's never been kissed like that. Just those few seconds have him buzzing on a completely different plane of existence. If that’s what it’s like to kiss Dean Winchester, he’s not sure he’d survive sex with the man. 

Castiel doesn't understand.

Why was he so upset about Dean having sex with Ethan? Why did he listen to them? Why did he cry? Why did his body react the way it did to Dean in the hall? Why did Dean react like that? Why does he feel like Dean is right about everything? Why does he want to be in that room with him? 

Why did Castiel say Dean is his? He's not. 

_They're nothing. _

_They are nothing._

_They're nothing… right? _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past two weeks have been absolutely chaotic for me. Not only with the holidays but with some other family things as well. Thank you all for being so patient! Here's an extra chapter to show how much I love you all <3 (:

Castiel had been pretending to sleep when Dean got out of the shower last night, and Dean had respected it. He had no right to kiss Castiel. The boy was clearly upset, he was confused about his feelings and their situation, and instead of helping Dean fucking kissed him. Took advantage. Probably made things worse. 

Ruined everything.

That's why Dean is shocked when he comes into the kitchen after his morning workout to find Castiel and Benny drinking coffee together. Ellen is cooking breakfast. Ash is passed out on the table - yes, fully on it, legs and arms sprawled. 

"You better wash up before the food is ready, boy," Ellen says, whipping Dean with a hand towel when she sees him standing all sweaty beside the fridge.

"Yes, ma'am." His voice snaps Castiel's attention toward him, and Dean stills. He isn't sure if they're going to fight about last night, or pretend it didn’t happen. 

Dean would prefer neither. In fact, he'd like to repeat it. Maybe add a few things during round two. But he knows that's not on the table. 

"Good morning," Castiel says softly, surprising Dean again. 

"Good morning."

Castiel smiles. Actually smiles. Did Dean imagine last night? Was it just a dream? "After breakfast, I get to go into the city."

Not wanting to ruin Castiel's childish excitement, Dean doesn't tell him he knew that, considering he had to give permission. Instead, he smiles and says, "Perfect. What are you thinking of doing?" 

"Charlie said we can stop by _The Edlund Institute_ to talk with an advisor, and then we can go shopping for me to get clothes." 

"Sounds like a good day."

Castiel's smile widens. "I'm going to see if we can maybe stop at a music store, too. Not to buy anything, of course. Just to browse."

"I'm sure Charlie would be fine with that. And buy anything you want today, Castiel. You deserve it." 

Dean catches Benny smirking, but ignores it. He nods at Ellen and mumbles something about showering, then heads to his wing. Dean doesn't make it twenty feet before Benny is beside him. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Dean asks, playing dumb. 

"You pretending like you're clueless. Like you weren't the ones to make those plans for him?"

"What's the difference? He doesn't need to know how much I control." Dean shrugs. "And he didn't mention that he has his doctor's appointment today, even though he does. I want him to think he has that privacy if he wants it."

Benny rolls his eyes, then says in a falsely high voice, "_Oh, Cas, buy anything you want today. You deserve it. I love you_."

"I do not sound like that," Dean grumbles, glaring at his best friend who is laughing his ass off.

When Benny catches his breath, he winks at Dean. "I notice you didn't deny the whole I love you thing."

"I've known him two days, Benny."

"Fine. Not love. But you like him."

"Yeah," Dean tentatively admits, fighting a smile. "I like him."

"Shiiiit, I know that face! You fucked him!" 

Dean hits Benny in the chest. "Would you shut up?"

"Dude, when? Was it after Ethan? Damn, brother, you got stamina."

"We didn't fuck. We-" Dean glances around, feeling like a teenager. "I may have kissed him."

"May have?" Benny asks, giving him a remarkable impression of Sam's bitchface.

"Okay, I kissed him. After Ethan. It just sort of… happened."

"How does that _sort of_ happen?" 

Dean sighs, eyes on the door up ahead that will gain him freedom from this conversation. "I was sort of teasing him for being curious about the whole Ethan thing. Flirting with him. Touching him a little. He got flustered and horny, but then he snapped at me and got all possessive saying I'm his. So... I kissed him." 

"And then what?"

"And then I took a shower, and he went to sleep."

Benny's whole face falls. "That's the least exciting ending to a story I've ever heard." 

"Yeah, well. Get over it."

\-----

Unfortunately for Dean, he doesn't have a fun day planned like Castiel. He has a meeting with Chuck Novak. It will be the first time they won't be meeting on neutral ground. Now that the deal has been sealed, Chuck is coming to Dean's company office downtown. Which might be a terrible fucking idea, because Dean is still pissed at him, and with all the confusion and emotions swirling around because of Castiel, Dean needs an outlet.

"Mr. Novak," Dean says when Benny leads Chuck through his office door. He stands up and offers his hand, eyes darting to where two younger men are walking in behind him. One looks like Castiel, except the hair is cut short and the body is full of muscle. 

Dean thinks Castiel is much better looking. 

"Mr. Winchester. This is my eldest, Michael."

Michael shakes Dean's hand and says, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Dean nods in agreement, turning to the last man, who doesn't resemble either of his brothers. Chuck gestures toward him at the same time. "And this is Gabriel. My second son."

When Dean offers Gabriel his hand, Gabriel sneers. "How's my brother?" 

Retracting his hand, Dean puts it in his dress pants pocket and casually answers, "My fiancé is just fine. Thank you for asking." 

"You son of a bitch, he-"

"Gabriel," Chuck says in a low warning. 

Dean just smirks. Gabriel sees it and lunges. He gets a good swing in, connecting with Dean's temple. But then Dean is using his momentum against him, turning them so Gabriel is suddenly pinned to the wall. Dean holds him there with one hand on his neck, and the other clenching a fistful of his jacket. Gabriel doesn't back down. He just growls and spits out, “You hurt him and I’ll fucking end you.”

_Yeah, Dean likes this one. _

If Gabriel hates him this much, he must actually care about Castiel. He must love him. This one Dean will keep around. This one is allowed near Castiel. 

Not the others.

Just to test his theory, Dean says in a low whisper that won't be overheard, "He's okay. Better now. I have a doctor helping him." When Gabriel looks at him with wide, relieved eyes, Dean knows he made the right choice. This one sees Castiel as more than just a pawn. 

“I would never hurt him, Gabriel. Never,” Dean assures, watching as Gabriel relaxes further in his grasp.

Dean releases Gabriel, and Castiel's brother immediately offers his hand. Chuck and Michael are clearly confused by the sudden shift, but Dean doesn't care. Chuck has already proved he doesn't give a shit, and Michael is his second-in-command and heir. He probably idolizes his daddy. 

"If that is settled," Dean says with a smile. "Shall we begin?" 

  


\----

By the time the doctor leads him into his office, Castiel is violently shaking. The nurse had him do a questionnaire for depression, anxiety, and mood disorders. The questions were straight to the point and in your face. Castiel is praying the doctor won't be the same. 

"Ah, Mr. Novak. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Dr. Warren." 

Castiel takes the offered hand and shakes it, hoping the doctor doesn't notice the trembling. "Nice to meet you."

"So, you're the one to finally catch Dean's attention, I hear?" Castiel freezes, hands making the leather couch beneath him creak. He wasn't aware this man knew Dean. _Does that mean Dean sees him for therapy too? _The doctor catches his reaction, pausing with his pen hovering over the chart. "I'm sorry. Am I incorrect that you are engaged to Mr. Winchester?"

Castiel's heart pounds in his ears, his breath hitching. "Y - yes. I'm sorry. I just wasn't, uh - wasn't expecting you to know Dean."

"Oh, yes. I've known Dean since he was just a baby. Great man. But of course, you know that. Or else ya wouldn't be with him."

"Right." Castiel laughs softly, the sound forced. Then the laughter bubbles and morphs, becoming manic. He laughs so hard his stomach muscles cramp. 

Then he begins to cry. The laughing doesn't stop, though. Instead, the sounds combine and become a living thing until the laughter fades, and all that's left are sobs that wrack his chest painfully. 

When he finally falls silent, his body still trembling, he looks up at the doctor. The man is frowning, but there's no judgement or pity. He hands Castiel a tissue. 

"Do you do that often, Castiel?"

"No. I - I don't know. Usually my panic attacks are more - I don't know.'

"That's okay, Castiel. Perfectly okay. How about we just talk for a bit, alright?" When Castiel nods, the doctor gives him a tentative smile. "Let's start with the arranged marriage."

\----

Castiel spends his afternoon out on the bedroom balcony, fiddling with his brand-new guitar. It's a great place to think. And the doctor gave him a lot to think about.

He likes Dr. Warren. He's a straight shooter, but kind about it. He's aware of everything going on behind the scenes, making it so Castiel doesn't have to lie or sugarcoat things. He's also not afraid to call Dean Winchester out on his bullshit, which Castiel enjoyed. Castiel didn't particularly enjoy when Dr. Warren called him out on his bullshit, though. As terrible as it was to talk about some of the things they talked about, Castiel is so relieved Dean made him that appointment. He even feels good about this new medication Dr. Warren is starting him on. 

But the assignment Dr. Warren gave him that's due by their next session isn't something Castiel is feeling great about. 

It sounds so simple. They're getting married. It shouldn't be hard. 

_Learn five new things about Dean, and tell him five new things about you_. 

Castiel doesn't even know what he would tell Dean. 

"Castiel?" Castiel turns when he hears Dean call for him, finding the man standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He's holding a phone out to him, grinning. "It's for you."

Too afraid to ask, Castiel just puts his guitar down and stands up. He gives Dean a confused look when he accepts it. "Hello?"

"Hey, nerd."

His knees jerk, eyes brimming with immediate tears. "Gabe," he gasps, the breath very close to a relieved sob. "I miss you."

"I know, baby brother. I miss you too."

"How - why," Castiel flicks his eyes up, but Dean is gone. He turns his back to the room and stares out at the mountains, letting the tears fall. 

"I met your boo today at a meeting with dad and the ass kisser." Castiel laughs through his tears at the nickname they use behind Michael's back. "I maaaay have attacked him."

"You _what?_" Castiel asks, half scandalized, half amused. 

"Hey, in my defense, I was under the impression he was a bad guy."

"He _is_ a bad guy."

"Not like we thought." Gabriel pauses, then asks, "Right? Was I wrong about him? _Fuck_. Is he hurting you, Cassie? Has he-"

"No, no, Gabe. He's - he's… _kind_. As strange as that is. He had me go to a psychiatrist. I got a lot off my chest, and he knows the situation, so I didn't have to sugar coat it. There are these pills he thinks will help me. I start them today. And I'm going to keep seeing him. Which makes me nervous, but it's good. He's good. Dean, I mean, not the psychiatrist. Though Dr. Warren is also very good. And-"

Gabriel's laughing cuts him off. "Slow down, Cassie. Dean didn't give us a time limit." 

More tears fall down Castiel's cheeks, but he's smiling. "Sorry. I just - I miss you, Gabe."

"I know. He said I can come visit soon. He wants you to get more comfortable there first, and for you to adjust to your meds a little. Which makes sense. I don't want to overwhelm you."

"You wouldn't be overwhelming me, Gabe. You've always taken care of me."

"Yeah, but that's not my position anymore, baby brother. I think Dean is doing a good job filling the spot. Let him."

Castiel looks over his shoulder again. Dean is still gone. "What did you have to do to convince him to let you call?"

"I didn't, Cassie." Gabriel laughs incredulously. "After the meeting, he asked to speak with me privately. He gave me his cell number, and we talked for a few minutes about how you're doing, and what we both can do to help you." 

"Wait, this was _his _idea?"

"Yeah. I mean, I was obviously going to ask to talk to you or see you, but he beat me to it. Said I'm the only one who seems to give a fuck, and that means I get to stay a part of your life."

Castiel just stares out at the mountains, his mind spinning. "I knew he was a decent guy, but not like that. I - wow."

"What do you think of him?"

"I just told you. He's-"

"Nooooo. I mean as your future husband." 

"Oh."

"Did he take our little Cassie's v-card?" Gabriel teases.

Castiel's face flushes. "No!"

"Why not? He's fucking sex on a stick. Have you at least kissed him?"

"He kissed me once. But it's complicated."

"Because of the whole arranged marriage thing?"

"No." Once again, Castiel looks over his shoulder. Still clear. "How much time do you have?" 

  
\----

Dean is sitting on the living room couch. He had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, hoping to seem more comfortable and laid back for Castiel. Benny had suggested it. The suits can be a little intimidating, especially if it's all Castiel sees. 

Dean's willing to try anything at this point. Not even to get in Castiel's pants, though that would be a fantastic bonus. He just wants to make the boy happy. 

Just as the judges on the cooking show Dean is watching are making a decision on who to eliminate, he’s attacked. Apparently, Dean is losing his touch, because he hadn’t even noticed that Castiel was coming at him. One second, he’s entranced by what Gordon Ramsay is saying. The next, Castiel Novak is dive-bombing him. Dean grunts when the boy hits, but then he realizes it's not a violent attack. It's a hug. Dean’s being hugged, arms tight around his neck and legs squeezing on the outside of Dean’s thighs. 

A muffled string of, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” is poured against his neck as Castiel rests his lips there. 

“It’s fine. It’s okay.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

Dean laughs softly, wrapping his arms around Castiel. He rubs small circles on his back. “You’re welcome, Cas. I’m glad he made you happier.”

“Always. Gabe’s like the perfect happy fix.” Castiel pulls away, but Dean only lets him move enough for them to look at each other, then tightens so Castiel can’t leave his lap. Castiel doesn’t fight it. Instead, he brings a finger up to Dean’s bruised temple. “He hit you.”

“I deserved it.”

Castiel pulls his eyebrows in. “Why?”

“Well, first, I pretty much stole his brother against his will. A brother he’s clearly very close to. Then I sort of goaded him. In my defense, I assumed he was a dick like your father.”

“It’s a common assumption. Gabe’s the opposite of everything my father and Michael are. He’s the only reason I survived as long as I have.”

Dean takes a breath, preparing himself. He doesn’t want to ruin this, but there’s something he’s been wanting to know. He feels like he _needs_ to know. “Can I ask something personal?”

“Actually, yes.” Castiel blushes slightly, and Dean smiles. He likes when Castiel does that. Sometimes the boy can be so confusing, especially when he goes blank like he does, but then he blushes, and Dean gets a glimpse into what he feels. “I kind of have this assignment from Dr. Warren, but you have to do it too.”

“Oh? Okay.”

“You don’t _have _to, I mean. He said if you’re not open to it, then that’s okay, but he thinks it’d be really good for me. And for, ya know, for us. But we don’t have-”

“Castiel, we can do it. Anything it is. It’s okay.”

Castiel releases a sigh of relief. “Okay. So, we have to learn five things about each other. New things. Well, obviously. You can’t learn something old, right? But-”

“Breathe.”

Listening to Dean’s soft order, Castiel takes a few deep breaths. Then he gives Dean a shaky smile. “Sorry.”

“No problem. You’re nervous.”

“Yeah.”

“About the assignment, or because of me?”

Castiel nips at his bottom lip quickly. “Both, I guess.”

“We’ll just go until one of us needs a break. Doesn’t have to be five things all at once, right? Maybe we can just start with one each. Go from there. Yeah?” Castiel nods. “Alright. Can I ask mine first?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” Dean sucks air through his teeth. “I’m so thankful you told me about your struggles with your depression and anxiety, and the fact that you opened up to me about your suicide attempt was amazing, but I was hoping to find out more about it.”

“Oh.” Castiel pulls at one of the strings of Dean’s hooded sweatshirt, eyes locked on it. “What exactly do you want to know?”

Dean’s grip tightens on Castiel. Just slightly, like a reassurance. “How did you do it?”

Clamping down on his lip to keep it from trembling, Castiel continues to fiddle with Dean’s sweatshirt strings. Dean gives him the time he needs, staying quiet, just watching him. Every second that tics by makes Dean fall for him even more. Castiel is doing crazy things to him. 

Eventually, Castiel takes a deep breath and lets go of the strings. He very slowly rolls up the sleeves to his new sweater he bought today. Dean notices that Castiel’s hands are shaking terribly. When the sleeves are up at both elbows, he turns his arms over and shows Dean the underside of his forearms. Cautiously, Dean lifts a hand. He flicks his eyes up to Castiel, silently asking permission. When Castiel nods, Dean slowly circles one of his wrists with his long fingers, running his thumb along the raised scar at the base of the forearm. The first scar of far too many. 

“First, I-” Castiel stops and clears his throat, blinking away tears. His eyelashes are damp as he stares down at where Dean is touching him. “First, I took all the pills I could get my hands on. I honestly can’t tell you what they all were. Washed it down with as much alcohol I could stomach, which wasn’t a ton. But it was taking too long, and I started to panic that I did it wrong. So,” he stops. Shrugs. 

“So, you did this as backup,” Dean finishes. 

“Yeah.”

“How did you survive?” Dean asks in slight awe, eyes locking with Castiel’s. He can tell the boy wants to look away, but he’s under that spell Dean sometimes manages to put him under, so he can’t. If Dean was a good person he would look away first and give Castiel the out. Dean's not a good person. 

“Gabe. He knew I was struggling, and he said he just got this feeling. Left a date and everything. I dunno. It sounds impossible, but he swears that’s why he did it. He had this feeling I needed him. He found me in the bathroom and,” Castiel releases a shuddery breath. “I was out cold, so I don’t remember any of this, but I guess he tried to stop the bleeding while he called out in the house for help. Some of the other guys came in, and someone knew enough to make tourniquets. Someone called the ambulance. I guess I went into shock and needed to be wrapped up in one of those weird blankets. I still had it around me when I came to in the hospital. They were getting ready to pump my stomach. I tried to fight it, lied, said I hadn’t taken anything, but they knew somehow. I never bothered to ask. Stomach pumping, by the way? I do not recommend.”

Dean laughs softly at the poor attempt to lighten things up. “I’ll make sure to avoid it in the future.”

“Great. Good plan.”

Wiping the tears from Castiel’s face with his free hand, Dean whispers, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah. Kind of felt good, as stupid as that probably sounds. Once I got out of the psych ward, everyone sort of swept it under the rug, besides Gabe. We weren't allowed to talk about it. My dad wanted it to seem like it never happened. He pretty much controlled and watched my every move from then on. No need for meds or therapy if I never get the chance to do it again, right? 

“What an idiot. He couldn't watch you all the time.”

“Yeah. He could.” Castiel scoffs. “He put cameras everywhere, upped my security, and specifically had one person at all times watching the feed of wherever I was. It felt like a fucking prison.”

Dean shakes his head. “Everywhere? Like, in your bedroom? Bathroom?”

“Yup. When I complained, he said I lost my right to privacy when I tried to kill a Novak.” Castiel shrugs. "I found ways to rebel. Like if I ever wanted to cut myself, not kill myself but just cut, I'd sneak under the blankets and use the light from my phone.

“I swear to god, that fucker is lucky killing him would start a fucking blood war, or I would-” Dean stops. Castiel doesn't need to hear about all of the things Dean would like to do to his father. Closing his eyes, Dean sucks in a breath to steady himself. “Sorry. I know he’s your father. I just-”

“I know. Don’t apologize. He’s barely my father. More like a warden. That’s actually what Gabriel called him for the first year. We always dreamed of running away and living together. Unrealistic, I know, but it kept me going on the really bad nights.”

Dean smiles, gently caressing his wrist again. It’s therapeutic for Dean, even though it probably shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the reminder that Dean almost lost him, and didn’t. God, he’s so fucking thankful he didn’t. Even if he wasn’t Dean’s to lose at the time. He’s Dean’s now. Dean already can’t imagine a life without him in it. 

"Castiel?"

"Yeah?" 

"Do you still cut yourself?" 

Castiel pulls his arm away from Dean and immediately closes his eyes. Dean can actually see his walls going up. 

"You know what? It's okay. We don't have to talk about it. You already gave your one thing."

Blue eyes blink open, looking at him in relief. He takes a shaky breath and whispers, "Thank you, Dean. And I - I'm sorry for everything I said. This isn't just one prison traded for the other. That's what I was expecting, but now I know I was wrong. _So_ wrong. This place is different. _You’re _different.”

“Good different?”

“Definitely.” Castiel smiles. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but whatever it is, I’m not exactly in a hurry to fight it.” 

Something warm and intense swirls in Dean’s gut. “Happening here, like with us? Or just in the house? The situation?”

“All of it.” Castiel peeks at him through his eyelashes. “Definitely all of it.”

“Well, okay then. That’s - yeah. Okay.”

“Is it?”

“Absolutely.” Dean grins. “I’m trying to stay cool here, but it’s better than okay. Because I feel it too. Whatever is happening. I - I feel it, too. And I don’t want to fight it.”

Castiel sags in relief, fingers playing with the strings again. “I guess it’s my turn to ask you a question, hey?”

“Yeah. I’m wide open. Give me your best shot.”

“Alright, well… I guess I’m wondering how you got into the whole BDSM thing.”

That wasn’t what Dean was expecting. His eyes involuntarily glance toward the hall that leads to the playroom. “Well, it’s kind of a funny story, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Benny actually got me into it. He took me to a BDSM club that was holding an open guest night for my eighteenth birthday. It was supposed to be a joke, ya know? Go. Have a drink with our fake IDs. Watch the public scenes. Get a little horny. Then go to the regular clubs and maybe find someone to fuck.”

“Uh oh,” Castiel says, his soft laugh very close to a giggle. “Let me guess? Plan didn’t go that way.”

“Nope.” Dean grins. “An hour into it, I was participating.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shoot straight up. “Seriously?”

“Not on my own. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s pretty dangerous to do. Like if I would have just grabbed someone and started dominating them, it wouldn’t be good. But this dom had his sub on the stage, strapped to a spanking bench, and part of the scene was letting others just come and use him. The dom oversaw everything. The sub had a safeword. Everything was kosher. You should have seen Benny’s face when I stood up and declared I was going up there.”

“Was he into it too?” 

“He didn’t mind it. I think he’s messed around once or twice. At the beginning, I sort of dragged him along to a lot of those kinds of things while I learned and met people. As far as I know, though, he doesn’t do that with his partners. At least not officially. Guy might be a little kinky. I dunno. Never asked.” Dean shrugs. “All I know is I was fucking hooked.”

“Good. Well - I mean. Not good, but good. Like good, ya know, that you found what you like. Because that’s - that’s good.”

Dean chuckles as Castiel’s face turns red. “Yeah. I’d say it’s good.”

“Good.”

“Can we stop saying good yet?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Good.” Dean winks, making Castiel laugh the loudest Dean thinks he’s heard so far from the boy. 

Then Castiel's smile slips. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you not do that again? Bring a _guest_ here? I know I said you could, but it," Castiel looks down, tugging at the sweatshirt string with his free hand. "I just didn't like it."

"Of course." 

"Thanks. And I could try to, ya know," Castiel trails off again, the blush traveling all the way to the tips of his ears. "I mean, if you need it. I don't want you to suffer. So, I could, ya know. See if I can do it."

Dean wants that. He wants it so fucking bad. He doesn't care if it's in the playroom, even, which is a first for him since high school. 

But what Dean doesn't want is for Castiel to be with him out of obligation. For Castiel to be with him _just_ so Dean won't be with someone else. 

"I don't need it. You don't need to be trying anything, understood? You're my fiancé. You have every right to ask me not to cheat. And I have no right to use you for sex because of it." Dean pauses, eyebrows pulling in. "This is very important to me, Castiel. Even once we are married. No matter what. You will always have your consent, and you never have to give it to me. I need you to know that I genuinely mean that."

Castiel nods. "I know."

“Good.”

“Thought we weren’t gonna say that anymore?” Castiel teases. 

Laughing, Dean shrugs a shoulder. Then his attention catches on where his thumb is resting on Castiel’s wrist. Dean has no idea when it found its way back there. He strokes the cut again. It looks like it was deep. 

They all do. 

“Did you take your medicine today?”

“No, not yet. Charlie has them.”

“I’m sorry. That was my order. I didn’t want-” Dean stops, knowing he’s going to sound like a dick if he continues. 

Castiel finishes for him. “You didn’t want me to use them to hurt myself. Or to lie and say I’m taking them, when I’m not.”

Dean winces. "Yeah.”

“I don’t mind. There’s a difference between worrying and caring, and dictating. You’re the first. My father was the second.”

"Okay. Do you want me to have the pills, though? So you don’t have to go find her every day?”

Castiel nods. “Yeah. That’d be kind of nice. It’s sort of embarrassing to have to remind her of it everyday. I mean, I know logically she’s not going to forget, but you know what I mean.”

“I do. It’s no problem. You take it with a meal, right?”

“Yup. Usually at breakfast, but he wanted me to start it tonight, so dinner today.”

“Perfect.” 

Dean starts to lean in to kiss him, then freezes. It had just felt so natural. They both stare at each other with wide eyes, aware of what almost happened. Before either of them can decide if they should finish it, or pull away and end it, there’s a loud knock on the wing door. Someone yells, “Dinner is finished, Mr. Winchester.”

And the moment is gone. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank all of you lovely people for reading - & commenting on! - this fic. I'm so overwhelmingly glad you all love it as much as I do <3

Castiel feels giddy as he takes a seat by Dean’s side. They both acknowledged something is happening between them, as well as the fact that neither want it to stop. Then, just before Garth knocked on the door, Castiel's almost positive that Dean was going to kiss him. And he wanted him to. So bad. 

He was almost disappointed when Dean said no to his offer of sex in the playroom, but when Dean explained himself, it just made Castiel fall for him even more. Dean took the pressure to please and satisfy off of Castiel, and with it came the realization that even though he's starting to think he wants to be with Dean for real, he's not ready for that step yet. The fact that Dean will respect that, given their situation and the amount of power it gives Dean, is amazing. 

It's not surprising, though. And that's what Castiel likes. Dean acting kind, caring, and respectful is becoming the norm, and that's a norm Castiel can absolutely spend the rest of his life with.

"So, Castiel, you visited The Edlund Institute today, right?"

Castiel rips his attention away from where he was accidentally staring at Dean. He realizes everyone has full plates, whereas his is still empty. The source of the question is Ellen, who is smiling expectantly at him. A little of his confidence wanes as he realizes everyone is staring at him.

"Yes, I did," he manages to choke out.

"How was it? I've only seen the campus once, but it's beautiful."

"Oh, yes. It is." Castiel takes a breath. He can talk about the campus. That's easy. "I loved all the trees. Lots of shade. I could totally see myself just sitting under one, playing my guitar." 

"What kind of songs do you like to play?" Charlie asks.

Castiel looks down at his plate, nervous again. "Um, mostly just covers. I like to play a lot of rock songs, because they're more challenging. I've written a few original pieces, but I like the piano more."

"Oh. You play both?" Benny asks. "You know, we have a piano collecting dust."

Castiel nods. "Yes, I saw that."

"You should play," Benny suggests.

"Oh, you have to play!" Ellen chimes in. "I would just love that."

"What can you play?" Charlie asks. "Covers of current songs, or classical, or your own?"

"Kind of everything. It's my favorite instrument." 

"You could play after dinner!" Ellen shouts in excitement. "Oh, please?"

"Just one!"

"It'd be awesome!"

"Even if it's just something easy."

A firm hand lands on Castiel's upper thigh, pulling him from a swirl of panic. He looks over at Dean just in time to see the man speak to the people sitting around the table. "I think Castiel will tell us when he is ready to play for us. Now, Jo, your vacation to Florida is coming up, correct?"

And just like that, the conversation shifts, attention leaving Castiel. His heart is still racing, his chest tight, so he sits back in his chair and focuses on breathing. Dean starts to pull his hand away, but Castiel grabs it and squeezes, a silent plea to keep it there. When he lets go, Dean starts to rub gentle circles through Castiel's jeans. 

"Can you try to eat, please?" Dean whispers, leaning closer. 

"I'm not hungry."

The hand continues moving, stroking him in calming motions. "I know, but anything. Even something in our own kitchen if you'd like. You need food for your pills."

Oh. Right. Those. 

Castiel bites his lip, staring down the spaghetti and meatballs on his plate. It makes his stomach turn. He subtly shakes his head. Apparently, that's all Dean needs from him, because he stands up and pulls Castiel with him. "Ellen, thank you for the meal. We are turning in for the night." 

"Oh, sure. Of course. Long day." She smiles at them, her eyes warm. Castiel gets the feeling she's a mother figure for Dean, and he wonders what happened to Dean's real mom. "Don't worry about your places. I'll clear them. Go on."

Dean slips his fingers between Castiel's, gently pulling him away. It's silly that just hand holding makes Castiel nervous and excited, considering this is his damn fiance, but it does. By the time they're at the personal wing, he's ready to jump Dean. 

"We'll purchase you a piano for up here. Make you a music room. It's important you can practice." Dean doesn't let go of his hand, even though they're now inside the wing and at the fridge. "What would you like to eat? I can make you something. Let's see… we have," he stops, scanning the items in the fridge. Castiel watches him in fascination. "So, we have stuff for steak and vegetables, thai chicken salad, cheese risotto and brown butter scallops, chicken parmesan, or if you'd rather something breakfast related we could have lemon blueberry pancakes, scrambled-"

"Dean?"

Dean glances up, looking like a kid in desperate need of approval. "Yeah?"

"Just something easy. Light. My stomach isn't very settled lately."

Frowning, Dean closes the fridge and cups the side of Castiel's face. "Be honest with me, how much have you eaten since you came here?"

"I don't know." Castiel twists his face, trying to remember. "I had a few grapes. And, um, coffee. Some water. Uh - Oh, and a few bites of a protein bar.”

“Oh, Cas.” Dean looks like he’s completely lost. He’s probably not a man that’s used to being out of control. Castiel can tell that every instinct in him is telling him to take over. To give Castiel orders. To take care of him. He’s literally trembling with the need. 

It’s because of Dean’s distress, not Castiel’s, that Castiel whispers, “Just tell me what to do. I’m too tired to think about any of it. I trust you.”

A switch goes off, visibly changing the man before him. Dean stands taller, his broad shoulders squaring. His chin lifts a notch. His eyes narrow. The loose smile on his face turns seductive. 

“Sit.” Castiel sits where Dean points, humming in appreciation when Dean runs a hand through his hair and whispers, “Good boy.”

Castiel watches as Dean walks to the fridge and methodically takes out ingredients. Yogurt. Granola. Blueberries. Strawberries. A bar of dark chocolate. A vitamin water.

He first opens the chocolate and the vitamin water, setting them side by side in front of Castiel. “Eat at least two squares. Drink until it’s to this line.”

“Okay,” Castiel whispers, tentatively reaching for the chocolate. When he looks up at Dean and catches his expression, he freezes. “What?”

Dean shakes his head like he's trying to rid himself of a thought. “Nothing.”

“No, Dean. What?”

“I just - I had to remind myself that I’m just helping you right now. Almost slipped into full dom mode.”

Castiel bites the inside of his cheek. “What would that entail?”

“I would have corrected you. Instead of saying ‘okay’, you would have had to say ‘yes, sir’. But you are not my sub. This is just for me to help you. No big deal, Castiel, I swear. It just felt natural for a second there.”

“Oh.” Castiel grabs the chocolate, fiddling with the wrapper. “Okay.”

“Two squares. To the line. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean’s head snaps, locking eyes with him. He opens his mouth twice before closing it and turning away. Castiel worries he messed up. His stomach twists painfully, and the smell of the chocolate just makes it turn worse. He takes the tiniest bite with the tips of his front teeth. It’s not terrible. He manages two more like that before needing a break. 

The vitamin water is easier to swallow. It feels good on his throat. He looks up to find Dean watching him. Dean immediately looks away, pouring granola into a bowl of yogurt. The thought that Castiel may have upset him returns, and Castiel pushes the chocolate and water away. 

“You need to eat more of that, Castiel. In-"

“I’m sorry,” Castiel nearly sobs. 

It catches Dean completely off guard. “Don’t be sorry, Cas. I just mean I need you to keep trying. Take your time.”

“No. Not for that. I - I,” Castiel tucks his chin to his chest, trying to hide his face. “I called you s_ir_. We had been talking about it, and it just sort of happened because I was still thinking about it, and I’m sorry. It was weird or whatever. It clearly upset you, so I’m really sorry.”

Dean laughs. “It didn’t upset me, Cas. I liked it. It was just another moment where I needed to check myself again.”

Castiel peeks up at him. "Really?"

"Really." Dean's smile is soft and warm, calming Castiel immediately. "Can you eat some more for me, Cas?"

Nodding, Castiel takes the chocolate again and tries a slightly larger bite. It makes Dean smile wider, and his stomach likes the smile apparently because it accepts the chocolate. It even wants more. 

A soft hand rests on the spot between Castiel’s shoulder blades. Firm. Steady. Reassuring. The bowl of yogurt, granola, and berries is put in front of him. Dean settles his lips just an inch from Castiel’s left ear, making Castiel shiver from his breath. 

“Eat five spoonfuls, and you can be done. Eat the whole bowl, and you get a reward.”

“Reward?” Castiel asks in curiosity. 

“Yup.”

“What kind of reward?”

Dean chuckles. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“But what if it’s not worth it? Then I went through all that work.”

“Oh, trust me, Castiel. My rewards are always worth it.”

The spoon Castiel is holding gently clatters against the bowl, but he manages not to drop it. He weakly nods to agree that Dean’s rewards are always worth it. Castiel is determined to earn a Dean Winchester reward. 

Part of him wishes he was earning a true one. He wishes Dean wasn’t still checking himself. He wishes Dean was in full dom mode. 

He wishes he was Dean’s submissive. 

What reward would he get then?

Castiel laughs softly to himself. He’s a virgin. The idea of being a submissive, especially to a man like Dean, is absurd. 

But it still sounds damn nice. 

Castiel still wants it. 

Fuck, does he want it. 

\----

He finishes the bowl of yogurt, and the vitamin water. Castiel even eats two extra squares of chocolate. Then he takes his pills. When Dean calls him a good boy, Castiel has a full body reaction, and when Castiel asks what the reward is, he blushes. This boy might be the death of Dean. 

It’ll be a fantastic way to go. 

Maybe that’s why he picks the reward he does. Dean’s fucking desperate to get his hands on the boy, but he can’t do it sexually. This is the next best thing. 

Castiel is spread out on the bed, laying on his stomach with his arms crossed to rest his chin on them. He gets to pick the movie they watch, too. He chooses Shrek 2. Dean waits for him to say he's kidding, but he isn't. It's apparently one of the boys favorites. 

Dean starts Shrek 2, climbs onto the bed, and straddles Castiel's ass. His calloused fingers skim Castiel's bare back. Dean still can't believe Castiel took his shirt off. Dean said the reward was a movie and a massage. He never mentioned removing clothing. Not that he's complaining.

Castiel's back is more defined than he expected, just like his arms, chest, and stomach. He understands Castiel wears sweaters to hide his scars, but it's a shame they hide the rest of him too. 

Once his hands are full of the aromatherapy calming massage oil he snuck from his playroom, Dean places his thumbs at the base of Castiel's back and begins to push upward. Castiel moans, the sound sexy and low, and every muscle instantly gives out. He's like putty in Dean's hands. 

Dean can only imagine what he'd be like in his playroom, then. The things he could do to Castiel. The noises he could pull from him. The way Dean would make his body tense, and shake, and explode. The way Dean could make him melt. 

"You're good at this," Castiel mumbles, eyes closed as he enjoys Dean's hands working him. 

Dean's cock twitches, and he realizes he's hard. _Shit_. He tries to lift some of his weight, hoping to avoid touching Castiel with it. By the way Castiel tenses, Dean knows Castiel is aware of the issue. 

"It doesn't bother me." Castiel glances over his shoulder at Dean, eyes hooded. "Just keep goin'. Feels good."

Nodding, Dean rests his weight back on Castiel. He swears Castiel wiggles a little, teasing Dean's boner with his ass, but he just bites his lip and ignores it. His hands get a mind of their own, though. They begin to slow, feeling every dip and curve, lingering in certain spots. His thumbs dip beneath Castiel's waistband once, just enough to rub beneath the seam, and Castiel shudders. 

At some point, Castiel falls asleep. His breathing deepens, pink lips slightly parted, eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. He looks beautiful. Peaceful. 

Dean keeps his hands on him for another two hours, even after he tucks the boy in for the night. He falls asleep with his fingertips brushing Castiel’s elbow. 

He falls asleep smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me @ destiel-love-forever on tumblr!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of hurt/comfort in this one - enjoy <3

Castiel wakes up covered in sweat and shaking. He pushes himself to a sitting position, trying to gain his bearings, but the movement sends bile up his throat. Panic seizes him as he tries to get out of the bed, fighting against the sheets he’s tangled in. He doesn’t make it. All Castiel manages to do is land on his hands and knees beside the bed, blankets still wrapped around one leg, and empty his stomach on the floor. Each heave curls his body inward, making his muscles ache. 

“Shhh,” Castiel hears behind him, a hand resting on the small of his back. That’s when he realizes he’s sobbing. “You’re okay. It’s okay, Cas. Shhh.”

“S-s-sor-” Castiel sobs, his body finally giving him a slight break from throwing up. 

“Hey, no. You’re fine. Perfectly fine.” He feels Dean pick him up gently, like he weighs nothing. Dean carries him into the bathroom and sets him on the fluffy, soft mat beside the toilet. He opens the seat for Castiel, then places a washcloth beneath his cheek so Castiel can rest his head on the rim. 

Castiel shudders. He gags, tongue sticking out, but nothing comes up. It’s almost worse. The dry heaving hurts. His muscles ache. His body is shaking uncontrollably. Even though Dean is still whispering that he’s okay, apologies continue to pour from his mouth in between sobs. 

A cool hand brushes Castiel’s sweat-soaked curls off his forehead. It feels good, so Castiel closes his eyes and relaxes against the toilet seat. A damp cloth is dabbed over his face, wiping away sweat, tears, and vomit. 

There’s a calm that comes over the room. Dean continues rubbing circles on Castiel’s back, hushing him from time to time. Castiel starts drifting off, exhausted. 

Castiel jolts awake with a gasp. He has just enough time to roll his head forward before more vomit is being forced out of him. At this point, he’s too drained to sob anymore. Silent tears just leak down his cheeks as he empties a stomach that he had no idea was so full.

After what feels like hours, Dean speaks again. “You haven’t been sick in a while. Do you want to try and take a bath, or sit in the shower? Or do you just want to go to bed?”

“No,” Castiel whispers, grabbing at Dean’s shirt with a weak hand. “You.”

“I’m right here, Cas. Not going anywhere. But you need to tell me what you want to do.”

“You,” Castiel repeats, a little more power behind it. He swallows hard and forces his eyes up. They’re blurry and unfocused. Castiel rubs at his eyes with a lazy fist, trying to see Dean better, but it doesn’t work. He lifts his head, but everything swims. Still, he manages to slur, “Sir,” and it’s enough for Dean to understand what Castiel needs right now. To understand he’s being handed all power and control. 

“Come here,” Dean whispers, taking Castiel into his arms. Castiel’s head lolls, but a firm hand presses it against Dean’s shoulder, keeping it steady. “I’m going to strip you down to your underwear, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Dean’s touch isn’t sexual, just thorough and comforting. At least, that’s what Castiel thinks. Everything feels jumbled and far away. Castiel can’t be sure. 

He just knows he feels safe, and that’s all that matters. 

\----

Castiel is out of it. 

When Dean removes Castiel’s clothes, he starts to shiver and his teeth chatter, but Castiel doesn’t react. Doesn’t even seem to notice. He just stares slightly to the left of Dean, barely blinking. Dean doesn’t have time to worry about it. Not when he sees the angry red cut that’s just barely peeking out from the edge of Castiel’s boxers. 

With a quick glance to see if Castiel has noticed what’s happening, Dean carefully pushes the cotton a few inches up. Castiel hisses through his teeth when the fabric brushes against the line of cuts there. When Dean looks up again, their eyes lock. 

“Cas…”

“‘M sorry,” he whispers, clearly understanding what’s going on. “I needed it.”

“When?”

“Don’ ‘member. Sleepy.”

“Okay. It’s okay. We don’t need to talk about it right now,” Dean promises, hoping to comfort Castiel. He doesn’t think the boy is aware of it, but Castiel is crying again. “I’m going to shower with you, okay? We’ll sit on the floor together.”

All Castiel does is nod, his hand fiddling with the hem of his boxers. Dean picks up the hand and moves it away from the injuries, then grabs Castiel's chin and gently guides his face until they’re eye to eye again. “Don’t think about it right now. Just let go. I’m right here. I’m taking care of everything.”

“Promise?” Castiel whispers, his voice crackling. 

“Promise.” Dean turns on the rainfall showerhead, adjusting the pressure and the temperature with the touchpad. When it’s where he wants it, he picks Castiel up again and carries him in. They settle with Dean's back against the wall, Castiel in Dean’s lap. Castiel presses his face into Dean’s neck to hide from the spray of water. Dean lets him relax for a few minutes before forcing him to sit up enough for Dean to wash him.

Once Castiel is rinsed, Dean turns the water off and stands up. He runs a towel over his body, then focuses on Castiel. Dean wraps Castiel in the softest towel he has. Using another, Dean gently dries Castiel’s curls the best he can, making sure to wipe at his face after. 

Not even asking, Dean puts his fingers in the waistband of Castiel’s boxers and removes them slowly. Castiel makes a noise, but Dean ignores him. The boy gave him permission to step back into his dominant role. Dean’s in charge now. 

Once the skin that was covered by the soaked boxers is dabbed mostly dry, Dean picks Castiel up again, carrying him out of the bedroom. If Castiel notices, he doesn’t show it. Dean knows he must be pretty out of it when they walk through the playroom door without Castiel even flinching. 

Dean carries Castiel to the bed, laying him on his back. Castiel blinks up at him slowly, clearly on the verge of falling asleep. Dean sets a wastebasket next to the mattress. “If you get sick, try to aim in there. I’ll be right back.”

Castiel nods lazily, eyes sliding closed, his cheek pressed against the pillow Dean put him on. The boy is totally oblivious to his new surroundings, which is fine by Dean. He doesn’t want to have to start explaining himself right now. 

Dean goes through the room and lights aromatherapy candles before going to the bathroom. Taking one of the new blankets from the closet, Dean folds it over the heater and leaves it to warm up. He digs into the cabinet beneath the sink, grabbing his playroom aid-kit. On his way back into the main room, he grabs the blanket off the warmer and goes to Castiel. Dean pulls the bedding off Castiel, replacing it with the fuzzy blanket so he’s covered from his privates up, then puts the bedding back at Castiel’s knees. When the cuts are all that’s exposed, Dean opens the kit and begins. 

After carefully disinfecting each cut, lathering cream over them, and dressing them with bandages, Dean pulls the warm blanket down all the way, then puts the regular bedding over Castiel up to his chin.

Dean just sits beside Castiel and watches the boy sleep. All night. 

By morning, he has a plan. 

\----

Castiel wakes up feeling gross. His throat is raw, his mouth and lips dry, and his body is covered with sweat that's cooled on his skin. He rubs at his eyes and tries to sit up but feels too woozy. 

"Shh, relax. Lay down," he hears Dean whisper softly. A gentle hand pushes Castiel until he's flat on his back. He doesn't argue. Just that little bit of movement has him nauseous again. 

Sniffling and closing his eyes, Castiel asks, "'S wrong wi'me?"

"Dr. Warren said these are rare, but not serious, side effects of the new meds. He said if they aren't gone by the end of the week that he will come see you." Dean doesn't sound pleased with this answer. If Castiel felt better, he would smile at the impatience in the controlling man's voice. This must be killing him. "He gave me some ways to help you. I think you should just rest today, okay?"

"Mm, sure," Castiel mumbles, already feeling sleepy again. 

"I know we will need to talk about this more when you're not so out of it, but I've made a decision." Dean pauses, and Castiel forces his eyes open to look at him. It's all he can do with his lack of energy to show Dean he's listening. "I'm going to step in now. Your body - you - you aren't taking care of yourself right now. And with this added on? At least until you adjust, I'm stepping in."

Not entirely sure what that means, Castiel just closes his eyes again and sighs. 

"I'll take care of everything now, okay Cas? Just let go and I'll take care of it."

_Damn. That sounds nice. _

Castiel even smiles. "Mhhm," he hums in agreement, moving his head to nuzzle at Dean's hand that's resting on his cheek. 

"Do you need anything?" Dean asks, a smile clear in his voice. "Bathroom? Water? I gave you some Tylenol a little while ago. Not sure if you remember."

"M'good."

"Okay." Dean sounds so defeated with that one word that Castiel finds himself cracking his eyes open to look at him. He's laying beside Castiel with a deep frown pulling at his face. When he realizes Castiel is looking at him, Dean forces a smile. It's broken, but Castiel is well enough to note that it's also beautiful. 

"D?"

Dean perks up. "Yeah?"

"Can y'hol'me?”

"Hold you?" When Castiel nods, Dean immediately wraps him up in his arms and pulls Castiel in close. He tucks Castiel's head beneath his chin and presses a kiss to his curls. "Go back to sleep, Cas. I'll be right here. I've got you."

\-----

When Castiel wakes up again, he's trembling so hard his teeth are clacking. He starts to panic, hating the feeling, but then he feels a hand on his face and hears Dean’s soothing voice, “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

Leaning into the touch, Castiel tries to speak through the shivers. “C - ca - n - n - n- t -”

“Shhh. I know. It’s okay. It’ll stop in a minute.” A thick flannel blanket is wrapped around Castiel, and then he’s being moved. When his eyes focus, he realizes Dean has him in his lap now, Castiel straddling him so they’re face to face. Dean’s hand takes the back of Castiel’s head and gently guides it until it’s resting on his shoulder. He begins to rock back and forth, whispering, “Shhh. Just breathe, Cas. Just breathe.”

“Ha - ha - hate th - ss -ss.”

“I hate it too.” Dean presses a kiss to his temple. “The doc is on his way. Told him I’m not letting you go through any more of this.”

“S - s -on - on - ly b - b - been fe- hour - hours.”

“No, Castiel. It’s been two days.”

Castiel closes his eyes, trying to remember two days worth of memories. He can’t. The panic in his chest swells and his body begins to violently twitch instead of the constant vibrating. 

When there’s a knock on the bedroom door, Castiel jumps. Dean hushes him and holds him tighter, reminding him that it’s the doctor. Castiel looks over just in time to see Benny leading Dr. Warren in. 

“Castiel - Oh no. Let’s fix all this, hmm?” Castiel nods slowly, feeling awfully anxious about this whole thing. All he wants is for his body to calm down so he can sink into Dean and feel safe again. He hates this feeling of not feeling secure in his own body. 

“Can you lay him on his back, Dean? Prop him up with a few pillows.”

“Of course.” 

When Dean begins to move, Castiel grips the man’s shirt tight. “No,” he cries. “No.”

“Shh. I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“No.”

“Cas, he needs to be able to work.”

“No.”

With a deep sigh, Dean kisses Castiel’s temple and begins to shift on the bed. Castiel’s heart races as he prepares for someone to rip him away from Dean. Instead, Dean lays them both down, using one arm to situate pillows so the other can still be holding Castiel. He puts Castiel on his back, then turns to the side so he's facing Castiel. 

Unfortunately, Castiel doesn't get to stay there long. He has to sit up, turn, twist, stand, sit again with his feet on the floor. His pulse, blood pressure, temperature, and blood is taken. He's asked a lot of questions. Most of them Dean has to answer for him. 

Just when Castiel thinks everything is finally done, the doctor and Dean exchange a look. Castiel feels his stomach twist as he watches them. The pain gets worse as Dr. Warren says, "Castiel, I need to check your cuts. Just to make sure they're healing properly."

Castiel's body locks up tight. How does Dr. Warren know about his cuts? How does Dean? No one should know about them. No one. They are Castiel's. The one thing that belongs to _him. _The one thing _he _gets to control. 

The doctor reaches for him, and Castiel barks, "Don't touch me!"

Everyone in the room freezes. He feels Dean's grip tighten on him and tries to squirm out of it. "Let go!"

"No. Calm down."

"Let go of me!"

"No! Stop - fuck, Cas stop moving! You're sick."

"I feel fine," Castiel growls as he slumps back down. He felt fine, but Dean was right. That expelled so much energy that Castiel once again feels weary and nauseous. 

Feeling far too out of control, Castiel begins to cry again. He whispers to no one in particular, "Don' look at'em."

"Okay. It's okay. We don't have to look at them. No big deal. It's okay." Dr. Warren reaches out, and Castiel flinches before realizing he's grabbing Dean's hand. Dean and the doctor lock eyes as Castiel watches. This time when the doctor talks, he's clearly speaking to Dean. "It's okay. He's going to be okay."

Dean's grip on Castiel tightens and he's pulled in tight against the man's chest, his body turning on its side to accommodate the new hold. Fingers tangle with his curls, and Castiel feels his head being held firmly in place over Dean's heartbeat. 

It's actually kind of nice. Soothing. Familiar. He closes his eyes and just listens to it, blocking everything else out. 

At some point, while he's drifting between wake and sleep, Dean adjusts so he can look at Castiel's face. Castiel whines and tries to get back to his heartbeat, but Dean keeps him in place. When Castiel looks around, he realizes they're alone again. The ceiling light is off, leaving just the dim lamp beside the bed, and the moon has replaced the sun through the windows. 

"Cas," Dean whispers, pulling Castiel's attention back to him. "The doc gave you some stuff that will help. He wants you to take them when you take your pills, which is supposed to be now."

Feeling itchy and misplaced, Castiel squeezes his hands into fists to ground himself. "What are they?"

"One is for the nausea, one is for panic attacks, and one is to help you sleep."

"Okay." Castiel shrugs. What's he going to do? Say no? He's not in control anymore. He was naive to believe he had any in the first place. 

"Dean?" Castiel whispers as Dean reaches over for the pills and bottled water on the nightstand. 

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean sits back and looks at him. The pills are in the palm of his hand. Castiel looks away.

"How did you guys find out about them?" 

He worries he will have to be more specific, but thankfully Dean understands what he's asking. "I saw them when I helped you shower. You were covered in puke and sweat. I kept your boxers on but they got soaked, so I obviously changed you after."

"Do you – do you think I'm disgusting?"

Surprisingly, Dean rears back like he's been slapped. "What? Of course not! They're- no. I didn't even think that way at all. Just saw them as a part of you I needed to take care of. Same as your hunger or your exhaustion."

"I'm just a bundle of problems for you to fix."

"No. You're a man for me to take care of." 

"No difference."

"Huge difference." Dean cups Castiel's cheek. "They bothered me because it meant you were hurting. And they were clearly fresh enough where you would have had to do them here, under my roof, and it killed me that you needed to hurt yourself while I was here. That you didn't come to me. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything. Just - you have to understand that I care about them, just not in the way you think I do. Okay?"

Castiel bites his lip and nods. Then his eyes flick to Dean's hand. There are four pills. "So, I'm gonna take the same stuff that's making me sick?"

"He said you're nearly done with the adjustments. It's up to you, but he thinks you should push through this last bit."

"What do you think?"

"I think that I want you to be happy and healthy, and these meds might help, but there are also a shit ton of other pills out there, so if you want to not take them anymore, then I think you shouldn't. Dr. Warren can try you with something else." 

"But then all this was for nothing."

Dean frowns. "Yeah, but how much more of this can you handle?"

Feeling his face heat up, Castiel tucks his chin to his chest. "Are you gonna keep stayin' with me? No leaving?"

"Of course."

"Promise?" Castiel asks as he peeks up through his lashes. 

Dean smiles. "Yes. I promise."

"Then I can handle it. For however long it takes." 

After opening his mouth to speak but closing it when no words come, Dean quietly gives Castiel the pills. He offers him a granola bar, and Castiel takes a few small bites. From the look on Dean's face, you'd think he had won the lottery or something. It's enough to make Castiel smile. It's small and weak, but it's there. 

Then the pills are mixing together to create this pillowy feeling that engulfs Castiel, and he's curling back into Dean, sighing softly before falling straight to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever !


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's starting to feel better & the sexual tension is back

When Castiel is finally feeling better, Dean convinces him to take a bubble bath. He guides Castiel into the bathroom and sits him on the closed toilet lid. Once the water is running and Dean’s poured the soap he remembers smelling on Castiel the night he took his first bath here, Dean reaches for Castiel to undress him. 

Castiel rears back, looking up at Dean with big eyes. “I can do it myself.”

“You’re still a little tired and-”

“I can do it!” Castiel barks. “I can do all of it. Go away.”

“No.”

Castiel stares at Dean in shock. “I’m not letting you sit here while I take a bath. Seriously. Go away.”

“No,” Dean says again. “I’m not letting you bathe alone.”

“This is ridiculous.” Castiel pushes to his feet and tries to pass by Dean to leave the bathroom. Instead, Dean catches him by the bicep and keeps him in place. He stares down at Castiel with a look that’s clearly meant to be authoritative. It sends a shiver down Castiel’s spine but he stands strong. “Let me go.”

“Last time you took a bath in here, you hurt yourself.”

All the energy leaves Castiel’s body. How can he argue with that? 

Closing his eyes, Castiel whispers, “I don’t want a bath anymore.”

“Cas, you’ll feel so much better once you’re clean.” When Castiel keeps his eyes closed and stays silent, Dean adds, “I won’t look until you’re under the water, okay? I’ll keep my back to the tub until you’re ready.”

After a few seconds, Castiel releases a deep breath and blinks up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Well?” Castiel raises his eyebrows and twirls a finger. “Turn around.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

Dean stares at the door that leads to the bedroom. He’s terrified that this messed everything up. Things were going well between them, and then Castiel got sick and Dean crossed a line. He should have never taken his boxers off. He most definitely shouldn’t have told the doctor about the cuts after he found them. Castiel would have wanted him to keep that private. 

He’s such a fuck up. 

“You can look now.”

When Dean turns around, his breath catches at the sight in front of him. Castiel is sunk low into the bubbly water, hair already extra curly from the steam and cheeks flushed red. He lazily looks up at Dean and gives him a nervous smile. “It’s creepy if you just stand there. Might as well sit.”

Laughing softly, Dean comes over to the bath and sits down on the last step before the tub begins. He turns sideways to look at Castiel. “Still feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little sleepy. ‘N my head kinda hurts.”

“After the bath we should take a nap.”

Castiel starts to play with the bubbles. “Don’t you have important stuff to do?”

“More important than this? No.”

With a small scoff, Castiel looks up at Dean. “You’re watching a grown man take a bath.”

“No. I’m watching the man I lo-” Dean stops himself immediately, closing his eyes. That was close. He doesn’t even know if he actually loves Castiel yet. The feeling had started before he got sick, and then it grew while Dean was taking care of him. But Dean’s never really been in love. This could be something else. 

And even if it is love, Dean’s not ready to admit that to Castiel. 

“The man you?” Castiel prompts.

“The man I’m going to marry.” When Castiel’s face falls in disappointment, Dean hurries to add. “The man I care an awful lot about.”

Looking down at the bubbles again, Castiel mumbles, “Promise you're not missin' anything important?"

"I promise. Benny has been keeping me updated, and the few things that needed my attention were handled by me just sending emails or telling Benny what to do."

"All the hunters must hate me."

"Why would you think that?"

"Dunno." Castiel bites his lip. "Guess 'cuz I'm so needy 'n you gotta waste time takin' care of me."

Dean smiles, reaching out to cup Castiel's cheek. "They're all worried sick about you, Cas. No one hates you."

"Really?"

"Of course. You're one of us now. You're _mine_." Dean moves his hand away, but does it slowly, letting his fingertips skim across Castiel's soft skin. "All mine," he breathes. 

"Yeah. Yours," Castiel confirms, looking up at Dean in a trance. 

Dean's heart starts to race and he quickly looks away from Castiel. He doesn't want to move too fast and scare the boy off. All of these emotions need to be kept in check, even if what Dean is feeling is genuine. 

"We still haven't finished Dr. Warren's assignment," Dean says to his knee, where he's currently picking a non-existent piece of lint off his pants. "Wanna do some more?"

"Uh - yeah. Okay. Nothin' heavy, though."

"Deal." Dean flicks his eyes up at Castiel, relieved when he sees the boy is relaxed. "You can go first."

While thinking of his question, Castiel hums softly under his breath. Dean can't help but just watch him in amazement. Even doing something as simple as humming in the bathtub is making Dean's stomach flip. 

You'd never believe Dean’s a ruthless killer and the best hunter when it comes to torture. Castiel Novak turns him into a pathetic puddle of goo. And he can't even get himself to hate that. 

Castiel perks up and smiles. "What's one thing you've always wanted to do, but never had the chance? Like if you found out you were gonna die tomorrow, what's that one thing you _have _to do first?"

That's not at all what Dean expected, so it takes him a few seconds. It's an easy one, though. "I've always wanted to skydive. I just think that would be amazing. Especially somewhere with a view."

Those blue eyes grow wide. "Are you crazy? You'd seriously jump out of a plane?"

"Yeah. And what's the harm? I'm dying the next day anyway."

"What if you weren't dying, but got the opportunity to skydive?"

"Then I'd skydive."

The look on Castiel's face is fucking adorable. "But - but that's so - no way!"

"No way?" Dean asks with a laugh.

"Yes. Future husband foot going down. No flinging yourself off airplanes! My god… I figured you were reckless, but that’s just - no."

This makes Dean laugh hard enough for tears to come to his eyes. "It's perfectly safe! You do remember what I do for a living, right?"

Frowning, Castiel grumbles, "You're gonna get yourself killed."

"I promise I won't. You'll be stuck with me until we're crabby old men with saggy asses."

"Eeeeew." 

Castiel splashes Dean, catching the man off guard. He stares at Castiel in shock before grinning. "You're gonna pay for that one."

"Whatchya gonna do?" Castiel asks with a very flirty smirk. "Spank me?"

Dean's cock immediately hardens, and he can't swallow his groan fast enough. The noise falls from his mouth and makes Castiel blush. Dean licks his lips, feeling like he's a damn predator about to jump his prey, and whispers in the sultry low voice he likes to use in the playroom, "Do you want me to spank you, Castiel?" 

If he isn't mistaken, Dean sees Castiel shift ever so slightly in the water. He has to fight the instinct to reach beneath the bubbles and check if Castiel is hard. 

"Y- your-" Castiel gulps, blinking rapidly. "Your turn."

"For?"

"To ask your.. um - your question."

Dean tilts his lips in a dirty smile and leans forward. "That was my question."

Those blue eyes go wide again as Castiel parts his lips to respond. He quickly clamps his mouth shut and looks down at the bubbles. This time, Dean knows for sure that Castiel is shifting beneath the water. He wonders if the boy is touching himself with the hand that's down there. The mental image makes Dean shiver. When he forces his eyes back up to Castiel's face, they get locked in a heated gaze.

Dean licks his lips again, chuckling under his breath when Castiel mimics the action by licking his own. 

Leaning close enough where he's at risk of falling in, Dean whispers, "So? Do you want me to spank you?"

He keeps his body where it is, his right cheek hovering just an inch from Castiel's left. Every time he exhales, air falling on Castiel's ear, the boy shivers. 

Finally, Castiel manages to choke out, "Right now?" 

"No, Castiel. Not right now. You're still sick." As Castiel noticeably deflates, Dean adds, "When I spank you for the first time, I'm going to fuck you. Gotta be healthy for that, baby."

The noise that escapes Castiel's mouth is somewhere between a whine and a moan. It's perhaps Dean's favorite sound of all time.

"So?" Dean prods. "You want me to spank you, Castiel? Would you like if I did that some time? Lay you over my lap and spank your cute little ass, then finger fuck you until your ready for my cock?"

"I- I-" Castiel gulps so loud the sound is clear in Dean's ears. He's starting to tremble.

Not wanting to make his boy upset, Dean pulls back and reaches for a washcloth. As he adds soap to it like nothing happened, he says, "You can think on that one. Answer this instead. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?" 

The relief Castiel feels radiates off him, reaching dean even though he's not looking at the boy. He smiles to himself and pretends to stay focused on the washcloth. 

"I'd - um. I've -" Castiel clears his throat. "You're gonna laugh, but I've always wanted to go to Austin Texas. I know that probably seems boring compared to Europe or something, but the music scene there is supposed to be amazing." 

Dean brings the washcloth to Castiel's shoulder and begins to wash him, fully prepared to be yelled at. Instead, Castiel leans closer and hums in satisfaction. 

"Austin is a great city. I've been there a few times." Dean brings the cloth across Castiel's collarbone, drawing little circles down his chest after. "I'll bring you when you're feeling better. We can go to a festival."

"Seriously?"

"Of course." Dean dips the cloth beneath the surface of the water to wash Castiel's lower stomach. He looks at Castiel for a reaction. The boy is beginning to pant, his face pink, but he's not arguing. "Whichever one you want to go to. We can plan it."

"O-o-kay." 

Dean chuckles under his breath as he lets his pinky finger brush Castiel's hard cock, pretending to be innocently washing his happy trail. He moves lower so that the entire curve of his hand is bumping against the boy's erection. Castiel whimpers and bucks his hips, sending water splashing over the sides of the tub. He snaps his eyes to look at Dean, almost like he thinks he'll get in trouble for the mess, but then Dean is wrapping his cock in the cloth and slowly jacking it. Castiel's eyes roll back in his head as he clamps down on his bottom lip. 

"There ya go," Dean whispers, leaning over again. "All nice and clean."

When he goes to move away from Castiel's cock, a hand grabs his wrist and holds him in a death grip. He looks up to find blue eyes blown with lust. "Don't," Castiel pleads. 

Realizing Castiel's cuts are there, Dean nods in understanding and begins to bring the washcloth back up Castiel's stomach. He grins as he watches Castiel's clear internal struggle. The boy wants to pretend like he's not turned on, because he's still pissed about his arrangement and maybe even fighting some feelings similar to Dean's, but the boy also wants to chase the pleasure. He looks one breath away from begging Dean to _clean _him again. 

Dean picks up a crystal glass and begins to wash Castiel's hair. All the fight leaves the boy's body as he relaxes into the water and closes his eyes. Dean takes the opportunity to just watch Castiel. He looks so happy. Peaceful. There's no pinched eyebrows in confusion or lips twisted in pain. Hopefully this is for real and the side effects are gone for good, because Dean would give anything to keep his fiance just like this all the time. 

Happy. 

Sated. 

Taken care of. 

"All done," Dean announces softly. He reaches for a fluffy towel that was resting on the warmer, but before he can tell Castiel he will put the towel to the side and turn away so Castiel can have privacy, Castiel is standing up. His cock is still hard and bobbing in the air as soapy water drips from it. It takes Dean an embarrassing amount of time to force himself to look away. 

Holding the towel out, Dean waits for Castiel to step closer. He helps him walk down the steps since they're slippery now, then stands him on the soft rug and begins to gently towel dry him. When Castiel is no longer dripping and covered in water, Dean picks him up, ignoring Castiel's little squeak as Dean sits him down on the counter. 

He pulls out a hairdryer and smiles at Castiel's adorably confused expression. 

"You said you hate sleeping with wet hair, but we're gonna take a nap," Dean explains. 

Castiel looks at him in wonder. "You remember that?"

"Of course." 

Dean turns the dryer on and begins to gently work the heat through his fiance's damp hair. The entire time he does this, Castiel keeps his blue eyes locked on him. It's clear the boy is studying him. Trying to figure something out. Dean just hopes whatever Castiel finds will be good, because he's not sure how much longer he can keep himself away from the boy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaaaaah things are getting INTERESTING folks. Buckle up (;

Dean goes back to work the next day now that Castiel is feeling better. Castiel isn't sure if it's wishful thinking clouding his judgement, but he swears it seems like Dean's unhappy about leaving him. He was almost reluctant this morning, taking nearly 40 minutes to actually leave their wing after first announcing that he was going. 

Suddenly being all alone after spending nearly every second with Dean is strange. Castiel feels anxious and aimless. He wanders around their wing for a while before finally deciding to enter the rest of the house. 

The guard gives him a polite nod as he passes him, heading toward the kitchen area. He's surprisingly hungry, even with Dean having made him a large breakfast earlier. Just as Castiel has the fridge in his sights, a red-head blocks his view. He stops short, blinking a few times before it registers who is in front of him. 

“Hey, Charlie,” Castiel says on a breathy laugh. “What’s up?”

“I’m kidnapping you,” she announces. “Are you willing to go out in the world wearing that?”

“Um… yes?” Castiel glances down at his jeans and maroon v-neck sweater. “Is it okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

Castiel tugs at his sweater and asks, “Can it be considered kidnapping if I was kidnapped in the first place?”

Rolling her eyes at him, Charlie says, “Fine, Mr. Dramatic. I’m breaking you out. Whatever. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh.” Castiel frowns as she takes his hand and tugs him in the opposite direction of the fridge. He does a small pouty lip, mourning the loss of his potential meal. “Does the place where we’re going happen to have food by any chance?”

\----

The restaurant Charlie brings him to is on top of a high rise. It's partly inside, but the majority of it is outdoor seating on the roof. They get a spot with a perfect view of the city, and for the strangest few seconds, Castiel finds himself upset that Dean isn't here to appreciate it too. He quickly shakes his head to dislodge that ridiculous thought. Dean probably wouldn't even blink at something like this. That man has seen way too much in his life to be impressed by a view of the city. 

"So, I highly recommend any of their french toasts," Charlie says as she looks through the brunch menu. Thankfully, it seems that she hasn't picked up on Castiel's dip in mood, giving him enough time to conjure a semi-genuine smile. 

"French toast is good," Castiel agrees. 

"I get the Captain Crunch crusted kind, but there are so many types. Look on the back!"

Doing as told, Castiel flips to the back of the menu. He finds himself staring wide-eyed at it as it registers. 32 types of french toast. How is that even possible? 

His appetite comes back with a vengeance as he reads over the options. They sound amazing. Castiel's new goal in life is to come here at least 31 more times, because there's no way he's missing out on a plate of lemon blueberry french toast, or caramel apple french toast, or the cookie dough stuffed french toast, or the peaches and cream french toast, or the… "Oh my god, s'mores french toast?" 

"Oh, Castiel, you have to get it! It's soooooo good." 

"Please tell me Dean likes this place, because I'm coming back as often as possible."

Charlie laughs. "There's a bacon french toast on the menu. Of course he loves this place."

Castiel smiles to himself, making a mental note that Dean loves bacon. He swears, even the tiniest new thing he learns about his future husband makes him fall more in lo… like with him. 

Because Castiel doesn't _love _him. 

Of course not. 

That'd be preposterous. 

Castiel is practically a mail order bride. A gift from his father to Dean. A commodity. He can't be falling in love with the man who made that happen. 

_Can he?_

Surely, he can't be.

"Earth to Castiel!" Charlie laughs, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He blinks rapidly and registers a waiter standing politely at their side. Charlie asks, "You ready to order over there, daydreamer?"

"Umm - uh… yes. Yeah. Of course." Castiel stares down at the menu like it's in a foreign language, his brain spinning. He can't be falling in love with Dean Winchester. He _can't _be. 

"He'll get three slices of the s'mores french toast, and some orange juice. I'll get three of the captain crunch and just a water, please."

Castiel can hear Charlie ordering, but he feels like he's floating out of his body. He's pretty sure he's having a panic attack. 

He's pretty sure he's in love with Dean Winchester. 

"Castiel? Are you okay? Oh god. Dean said you'd be fine today. Are you feeling sick? Is this - are you having an attack? Hold on, I'll call Dean."

"No!" Castiel yells, snapping back to reality in time to stop Charlie from dialing the number. "Don't- don't call him."

"Castiel, he won't mind."

"No. It's not - he's - I don't want him here right now. I'm good. I'm fine. Just-" Castiel stares down at the table, surprised to find that the menu is gone. _When did the menu get taken away?_

"Listen, Castiel, I don't mean to be a dick. Really. I want to be your friend. A real friend. But you have to explain to me what that was, or I need to call him."

Castiel nods in understanding, then buries his face in his hands. _Maybe if he says it out loud, he'll realize it's a lie? _That's worked before. When he's panicking over something unimportant. Saying it out loud puts it into perspective. 

"I think maybe I'm falling in love with Dean," he nearly blurts into his hands. 

_Shit. Nope. _

That did _not _help matters in the least. 

Especially since it makes Charlie squeal and clap her hands. 

"I'm so gonna win the bet! This is awesome! Can you maybe tell him that by the end of this week? Friday at noon, preferably?" When Castiel pulls his hands away to stare at her in confusion, she blushes. "Sorry, just, we all sort of have a pool going on when the two of you will give in to this obvious _thing _between you guys, and I'd love to kick Benny and Ash's asses."

Castiel shakes his head. "There isn't a _thing_, and I'm definitely not telling him. Ever! That'd be mortifying. No way."

"Mortifying? He'll give you the best sex of your life! That's the opposite of mortifying."

"How do you - I mean… how do you know it'd be that great?"

Charlie scoffs. "First of all, I'm a dom like him, and he trained me, so I've gotten to watch him in action quite a bit. Second of all, people in the community talk, and that man is the holy grail. And _not _because of his money."

Castiel doesn't know how he feels about that. On the one hand, he's insanely jealous, both of Charlie, as well as of anyone who knows how _good_ Dean is. The other hand, though, holds opportunity. A golden opportunity. 

One Castiel can’t turn down. 

“So… what’s he like? I mean – I mean, ya know, like – like in the playroom or whatever?”

He feels his face heat up and has to fight the urge to bury his face in his hands. It’s even worse when Charlie smirks at him. “Someone curious about bdsm?”

“I – I’m not – I mean… who isn’t, right? It’s interesting. Ya know, from a cultural perspective.”

“A cultural perspective,” Charlie says with a snort. “Fine. Let’s pretend that’s the truth, hell I’ll even pretend you didn’t just admit to loving the guy, but I have a question.”

“Okay?”

“Have you ever done anything the least bit kinky? Or have you always been straight-laced, vanilla?”

Castiel looks out at the city, feeling his stomach flip. “Promise none of this gets back to him?”

“Swear. Scouts honor!”

“Okay.” Castiel bites his lip and looks back at her. “I’m a virgin.”

Her shock is so sudden and explosive that Castiel is extremely glad she wasn’t in the middle of taking a drink or anything. She’s sputtering enough without that. 

When she recovers, she points a finger at Castiel and grins. “You’re telling me you have _never _had sex?”

“Never.”

“Not even with a girl?”

“Nope.”

“But you’ve done, ya know, other stuff.”

Castiel feels his face turn red again. “I mean, I’ve, like, masturbated. While watching porn.”

“Oh my dear lord, where did he _find _you?” Before Castiel can ask who exactly Charlie is referring to, she clarifies a bit. “Dean’s going to die.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Oh my god. I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

Castiel slumps, his eyes fluttering shut. “That’s why I let him bring that other guy over. I know I’m not enough for him. I – I know he’ll be disappointed.”

“What?” Charlie reaches over and slaps his shoulder, getting him to open his eyes. She looks genuinely shocked. “Castiel, he’s going to _love _this. For a million reasons.”

“Really?”

“Really. Especially the dominant in him. To be your first? To fully own you like that? Yeah. That man is gonna flip.”

Castiel blushes even harder. “Oh.” 

“Do you mind if I ask, are you interested in his kind of sex?”

“Definitely,” Castiel admits, perhaps a little too quickly. “It’s all I can think about. Him having me in there. I even considered sneaking into his playroom to see inside, because I can’t picture it, and I _really _want to picture it.”

Charlie sits straight up and points a finger at Castiel, a look of determination on her face. “This is it, my friend. Operation get Castiel laid. Ready for step one?”

Rolling his eyes but laughing, Castiel says, “Lay it on me.”

“Get you into that playroom. A.S.A.P!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever !!!! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one you've all been waiting for <3

Getting through dinner back at the house is torture. Castiel and Charlie came up with a plan, Charlie promising to keep Dean occupied for at least 20 minutes after the meal so Castiel can sneak upstairs. Having an actual plan is just making him more nervous. He sits in his seat and just repeats it on a loop. _You have 20 minutes. Here's my key. Make sure you don't move anything! Make sure you lock it back up. _

It doesn't help that Dean is late for dinner. Everyone else is talking and laughing as they stuff their faces with food, but Dean's nowhere to be found. No one has told Castiel why that is, either. 

All of this is why, when Dean finally takes his seat beside Castiel at the head of the table, Castiel has only managed to eat a few small bites. He can practically feel Dean's eyes lock onto his plate and hurries to stab a piece of chicken. 

"You feeling okay?" Dean whispers, leaning over so they have some privacy. 

Castiel blushes and nods. 

"You sure? Maybe today was a bad idea. I shouldn't have let Charlie-"

"I'm okay, I promise," Castiel hurries to say. The last thing he wants is to be put on lockdown again. “I just got distracted. I’m feeling good today, actually.”

Green eyes study Castiel for a minute before Dean nods and smiles. “Charlie bring you to the french toast place like she planned?”

“Oh my god, yes.” Castiel grins. “That was the best food, like, _ever_. I got the s’mores kind.”

“S’mores? That’s new.” Dean’s eyes flick to Castiel’s lips. “Bet they tasted amazing.” 

“Yeah,” Castiel whispers, leaning forward slightly. “They were delicious.”

“I bet.”

“Hey, love birds!” Benny barks from across the table, tossing a dinner roll at Dean’s face. Dean and Castiel separate quickly, Castiel’s face burning as Dean shoots his best friend a dirty look. Benny puts his hands up like he’s surrendering. Then he smirks at Dean. “Was trying to ask how the phone call went?”

Apparently, this is a decent enough excuse because Dean drops the bitch face and launches into a story about someone named Ruby. Castiel tries to pay attention, but he’s too lost. Instead, he focuses on hurrying through his meal, thinking his best bet would be to finish before Dean so he can sneak away. 

The plan works. Once his plate is nearly empty, Castiel stands up and clears his place at the table. He rinses his dishes and runs the garbage disposal. Then, with a final look around to make sure no one is paying attention, he starts walking toward the archway in the corner. There’s no pause in the conversation between Dean and Benny, besides the occasional interruptions by other members that have an opinion. No one notices his absence. 

Castiel would find that a tad depressing if he wasn’t so excited to finally get his chance to explore the playroom. He has a one-track mind now. A one-track mind that leads him straight to the playroom door, hand shaking as he tentatively unlocks it. 

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself this isn’t a big deal. It’s just a room. He’s not going to be doing anything inside it. Dean won’t even know he was ever here. 

Castiel exhales and opens the door. He flips the light switch to his left, ignoring the two other switches and the knobs beneath them, having no idea what they could be used for. 

The room is… different than he imagined. Much different. 

It’s warm. Cozy, even. The flooring is dark hardwood, but in the center against the far wall is a set of two large platforms the size of a normal bedroom. The platforms are each black, maybe six inches or so in height, and have a black rounded zig-zagged pattern around all the edges. They’re lit from the inside with this dark, golden lighting that matches the warm lighting of the rest of the room. Castiel walks toward the bed on the top platform, having to climb the two-step staircase to reach it. His fingers itch to touch, but he forces himself to keep his hands to himself, just looking instead. 

The bed is beautiful. It’s a massive four-poster, the frame made of a dark-brown wood that’s polished and slightly gleaming. Each post has a section of creamy canopy material tied to it, the cream-colored fabric cascading down from the dark brown square on the ceiling. The tufted headboard is a mixture of gold, cream, and brown fabric. The bedspread looks like it’s silk, and it reminds Castiel of the flawless sand at a Caribbean beach. This is the first time he breaks Charlie’s only rule, allowing himself to run his fingertips along the fabric where it’s folded over at the top. To call it soft is an understatement. 

There are two large pillows that match the material resting against the headboard, a square pillow made of dark brown fur, two short but long throw pillows that are a rose gold color, and a final throw pillow in front of them all that’s cream with slight gold stripes through it that you can’t even see from far away. There’s a dark brown plush-velvet throw blanket that’s lazily folded and draped over the left corner of the bed, making the whole thing looks like a picture in a pottery barn magazine. 

It’s a bed Castiel would kill to make love in. 

The thought makes him blush. Not just because the idea of his dorky, virgin ass in this bed with Dean is both arousing and embarrassing, but also because this isn’t that kind of bed. Castiel understands that. This bed, in this room, is meant for fucking. Hard. Dirty. The kind of way Gabriel used to watch on his gross - not so gross - videos. 

Castiel forces himself to look away from the bed, swallowing hard as he collects himself. He doesn’t have much time. Now isn’t when he can dwell on all of this. He needs to take in the details, and analyze later.

There’s a brown leather padded trunk at the foot of the bed. Castiel wonders what’s inside of it, but is convinced if he lifts the lid, something terrible will happen. 

He decides it would be best if he gets off the platform with the bed and two nightstands with dim lamps on them, and explore the rest of the room. 

The next area he walks towards is the wall with toys hanging from it. At least, what he assumes would be considered toys. He’s not quite sure. Some of them look like they’d be… painful. 

From golden hooks hang various lengths and shapes and types of what must be leather. Some look like a classic whip, though a few take on a weird shape near the ends. Others look almost like a mop, with handles that turn into multiple pieces of leather flaring out. One of them looks just like the others, except instead of strips of leather, it’s strings of beads going in all directions. 

That one has to be for pain. Castiel finds himself wincing, unsure why anyone would want to be hit with _that_. With any of it. The wooden paddles in multiple sizes. The leather and steel paddles too. The one that has the word SLUT on it, the word outlined to make the letters appear on the skin of the submissive most likely. Riding crops with different endings, one of them looped. What looks to be a steel rod or cane. 

Wouldn’t it all… hurt? The man with Dean the other night didn’t sound like he was hurting very much. He sounded like he was in fucking heaven. 

Maybe Dean keeps the heavenly toys somewhere else?

Castiel starts walking around again, taking things in. There’s this strange, large piece of furniture to his right. It’s made of the same dark, polished wood of the bed frame, shaped like two triangles kissing, one facing upward and one facing down, their tips touching in the center. It’s taller than Castiel - about Dean’s height. As Castiel gets closer, he sees that there are ornate hooks on the corners of the thing. Hooks that you could tie things to. As he steps back, he gets the perspective he needs to understand it. Those hooks would be the perfect places to tie wrists and ankles to the wooden frame, immobilizing the submissive. 

Castiel has to adjust his cock in his pants before moving on. 

Close by are two dark-brown leather pieces of furniture that he can’t figure out. One is shaped like a small barrel, placed on a stand sideways, almost like you could lay on it. There are hooks on the front and back of it, and more on the stand. Castiel can’t see how that could be used for… anything. Even if someone laid on it, wouldn’t they fall off? It’s too small and narrow. And it can’t be comfortable. 

Deciding there’s no harm in checking it out a little closer, Castiel stands behind it and starts to lower himself to the cool leather. His breath hitches as if Dean was doing this to him, placing Castiel on the thing before he does whatever it is he does to a submissive when on this particular piece of furniture.

Castiel’s cock is impossibly hard now, and if he grinds down against the leather as he gets comfortable, then that’s his own dirty little secret. 

Dean never has to know.

\---- 

“Charlie, have you seen Castiel?” Dean asks a few minutes after the last time he saw the boy. He was just here. Standing by the counter, looking around like he was searching for a way out. The plan was to take him upstairs and call it an early night, considering the big day they had, but Benny had asked Dean another question about Ruby, and he lost his visual. 

Now, Castiel is nowhere to be found. 

Charlie, who won’t make eye contact with him for some reason, smirks and shrugs a shoulder. “Actually, I think he mentioned he was going upstairs. To your wing. Something about going to try and get some rest. I’d be quiet when you walk in, you know, just in case he’s sleeping.”

“Oh. Of course. Thank you, Charlie.” Dean gives her a genuine smile, not thinking twice about her weird behavior. 

This is perfect. Dean doesn’t want anything more tonight than stripping down to his boxers and t-shirt and sliding under the covers with Castiel to get a full night’s sleep. Nighttime has been his favorite lately. Ever since Castiel was sick, getting super clingy and cuddly, the boy gravitates to Dean in his sleep. The second he’s not awake to fight it, Castiel’s wrapped around Dean’s body in no time, clinging to him like his life depends on it. Dean’s obsessed. Just that alone is like his new favorite drug. 

Smiling, Dean sneaks into their wing and gently closes the door behind himself. He puts a hand in one of his suit pant’s pockets and uses the other to loosen his tie. It’s when he turns the corner into the hallway that he realizes something is off. Something monumental. 

The door to his playroom is open. 

Just a crack, but it’s open. 

It takes Dean a full minute of standing in the hall, just staring at the sliver of light coming from the room before it processes. 

_Holy fucking shit, Castiel is in his playroom. Right now. This minute. The boy he’s falling in love with is in his playroom. _

He has to adjust his erection and take a deep breath before walking forward. It takes everything in him not to choke on his own tongue when he first enters the dimly lit playroom. Castiel is facing away from him, currently touching Dean’s fucking machine. He looks like he’s trying to figure the thing out. 

Dean would be more than willing to show him. 

“Well, now, what do we have here?” Dean asks, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Castiel squeaks and whips around, big blue eyes wide as it sinks in that he’s been caught. Dean just smirks at him. 

“I - I didn’t - I was just - just… uh… shit.” Castiel closes his eyes, and his hands begin shaking. The panic attack is so close, Dean can feel it in the air. 

“I like you in here,” he says in a firm, dominating voice. He walks forward until he’s right in front of Castiel, cupping his face with both hands. Castiel’s breathing slows considerably, but he still won’t open his eyes. “Do you like it in here, Castiel?”

Castiel shivers. Then, his face turning bright red, he hesitantly nods. 

“Want me to show you around?”

“I - I think I’ve got it.”

“Yeah? You’ve seen everything? Know what everything’s for?” Dean steps in closer, pressing his erection against Castiel’s hip and feeling the boy’s hard cock doing the same to him. He brushes the thumb nearest to Castiel’s mouth across his plump bottom lip, then gently tugs at it. “I could show you anything you’re curious about.”

Castiel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. When it accidentally gets the tip of Dean’s thumb, Castiel’s eyes snap open in both fear and arousal. He stares up at Dean with the same look he gave him when he wanted Dean to take over for him that night in the kitchen. The same look he kept giving him while sick and helpless. 

The submissive look the boy probably has no idea he even has inside himself. The look that exposes who he really is. What he really wants. A look that begs Dean to control him. To take care of him. 

Because of that look, Dean goes out on a limb. He steps back from Castiel and grabs the boy’s hand, leading him closer to the fucking machine again. Dean easily flicks on the power, having used it enough times where he doesn’t even have to pay attention to the thing, his eyes focused on Castiel so he can see his reaction the second the dildo begins to move. 

It’s priceless. His pupils dilate, his cheeks flush, and his breath hitches. He starts to reach for his cock, probably to adjust it since it’s clearly uncomfortable in his tight pants from what Dean can see, but fists his hands at his sides to stop himself. The slight tremble to his body this time has nothing to do with anxiety, and everything to do with curiosity, and desire, and need. 

“Sometimes I like to just sit and watch this fuck my sub. After a nice long day, sit back in one of the chairs there and enjoy a glass of scotch. Unwind a bit.” Dean moves toward Castiel. The boy doesn’t move away. “Other times, I like to use it to keep my sub always ready for me. I have a quick refractory period, don’t get me wrong, but for that ten or fifteen minutes, can’t have my pretty little sub bored if I’m not finished yet, right?”

“Right,” Castiel whispers, eyes still glued to the fucking machine. Dean’s pretty sure the boy doesn’t even know he said that out loud. 

Resting a hand on Castiel’s hip, Dean turns so his chest is glued to Castiel’s back, Dean’s lips pressing against the shell of his ear. “Could you imagine? Me coming home from a long day to you waiting in here for me. Kneeling naked by the door. I spread you out on one of the benches, maybe even the bed if I’m feeling generous, and attach you to this. Turn it on. Sit in the chair and answer emails. Make a few calls. Drink a glass of scotch. Play with the remote when I get too bored.”

“C-calls?” 

“Yes. I’m a busy man, Castiel.” Dean reaches over to the control panel and turns the dial. The dildo begins to vibrate as it speeds up. “I’d probably have to gag you, though. Can’t have my associates hearing my boy, now can I?”

“No, sir,” Castiel breathes. 

Dean doesn’t even fight back the low groan those words pull from him. He also doesn’t fight the way his hands are now starting to explore Castiel, one sliding beneath his shirt to brush through his happy trail, the other drawing circles on his hip. “Would you be quiet for me? Would you be a good boy?”

“Yes.” Castiel nods frantically, his breathing so erratic he’s practically panting. “Yes, sir.”

“I know you would. Always such a good boy.” Dean licks the shell of Castiel’s ear, then blows on it. He chuckles when it makes Castiel buck against him and whimper. “Think maybe you-”

And then Castiel’s gone. Running away from him. Dean blinks hard, trying to gain his bearings. Then his mind catches up and he’s sprinting after him, stomach turning bile as he realizes what he just did. 

He crossed so many lines. He’s ruined everything. 

_Fuck, why is he such an idiot? _

“Cas?” Dean calls as he enters their bedroom. His eyes scan the area and he sees the door to the bathroom just before it’s slammed shut. He heads straight to it and tries the handle. Of course, it’s locked. “Cas? Cas, please, I didn’t - I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel says in a high-pitched voice that sounds close to tears. “I’m fine. Just - just leave me alone for a minute, okay?”

Dean’s heart seizes in his chest as he rests his forehead and his hand against the door. “Cas, please come out. Please. I’ll never do that to you again, okay? I swear. I’m so sorry.”

He holds his breath and waits for Castiel to say something. Anything. All he gets is silence charged with a dangerous electricity. 

Just as he’s about to call for Castiel again, he swears he hears something. No. Yes. That’s definitely something. It’s familiar, but he can’t place it. What is that?

Castiel releases the softest whimper and Dean’s body jolts with realization. That is the sound of lotion on a cock. Castiel’s touching himself right now. Jerking himself off. Just inches away, right on the other side of this door. Thinking about what just happened. Thinking about what Dean just did to him. 

Head spinning, Dean slides to the floor and presses his back to the door. He fiddles with his belt, unsure if he should take his cock out or not. The last thing he wants is to be wrong about this and come off as some sick perv while Castiel is in there crying or something. 

“Cas?”

“‘M fine,” Castiel whines - and _oh fuck he’s hot when he whines_. 

Dean takes a chance and asks, “Do you need any help in there?”

That slick sound slows, then stops altogether. “W-what?”

Here goes nothing. “That needy cock of yours. You got it handled, or do you want me to come take care of it for you?”

There’s a choked, gasping sound that makes Dean smirk. Then a very quiet and shy, “I’ve got it.”

“Mmm. Okay.” Dean undoes his belt, not even bothering to be quiet, and unzips his pants. He spits - loudly - into the palm of his hand and begins stroking his own erection, moaning at how good it feels. 

“D-Dean?”

Dean sighs in pleasure. “Yeah?”

“Are you - are you doing it too?”

“‘Course.” 

“Because of me?”

Dean closes his eyes, picturing Castiel’s face as he watched that fucking machine in awe. “Yeah, Cas. Because of you.”

“Oh.” 

They both go quiet, the only sound the two of them stroking their slick cocks and a few heavy breaths. The door jiggles, Castiel most likely shifting on the other side of it, and Dean wants to ask what he’s doing. Wants to ask if he’s touching his hole. He doesn’t, though. He’s too afraid he’ll ruin this. 

“Dean?” Castiel whimpers just a few seconds later.

“Yeah?”

“Did you imagine it?”

Even though he knows what Castiel’s asking, he pretends he doesn’t. Dean wants to hear Castiel say it. God, he thinks he might come just from the words alone. “Imagine what?”

There’s a long stretch of nothing but wet dicks getting touched, but then Castiel surprises him by answering. “Me on that fu - m - machine. While you watch.”

“Yes, Castiel.”

“Me too…”

“Is that what you're thinking about right now?"

"No."

Dean raises an eyebrow, surprised by this. "Then what are you thinking about?" 

He waits a few seconds, but Castiel doesn't answer. His hand is most definitely speeding up, though. Whatever he's picturing, it's good. 

"Castiel," Dean says in his playroom voice. "Tell me what you're thinking about. Now."

After a soft whimper, the boy obeys. "You just got off the phone. And - and you strip down and… uh - and you turn the ma - machine off and push it away and you - you-" his voice gives out. Dean can hear his hand as it moves impossibly fast. He must be close. So damn close. 

Dean wants to be the one to push him over the edge. 

"And I'd fuck you. Spread your legs wide and just slide right into that fucked out hole that's all nice and open for me." Castiel garbles something unintelligible. Dean can't help but think it's both sexy as hell, and adorable. "I'd fuck you so good, too, baby. After having to sit there and watch my machine fuck you, I'd be so hard, so impatient. I'd just pin you down and fuck you until you can't think of anything but my cock. You'd be so desperate and needy after all that teasing. Just like you are right now. Probably begging me to let you come."

"Please!" Castiel calls through the door, his body twitching against the wood as a low whine is ripped from his lips. "Please let me come, sir. Please."

"Oh fuck," Dean hangs his head. It's over now. So fucking over. "Come for me, baby. Come for me right now."

With a hard slam back against the door, Castiel's needy whining turns into a relieved shout. The knowledge that Castiel just asked his permission to come, and then came on command, pushes Dean straight over the edge. He comes all over his hand and pants, not giving two fucks as he milks himself for every drop. 

As he comes down from the high, he starts to fully grasp what just happened. He knows Castiel is probably getting hit with the same reality, and Dean knows that boy well enough to know he's slipping straight into panic mode. Mutual masturbation or a full scene in the playroom, it doesn't matter. Dean's giving that boy aftercare whether he likes it or not. 

"Cas," Dean rasps as he tugs his dress shirt off and uses it to wipe his hands and lap partly clean. "Cas, can you open the door for me?"

He zips his pants back up but leaves the belt hanging open. Once he's back on his feet, he puts his hand on the door handle and pleads, "Unlock the door for me, baby."

There's a soft noise that sounds similar to the whimpers from earlier. Then the door is unlocked, and Dean is able to turn the handle and enter the bathroom. 

Castiel is standing a foot or so away, staring down at the ground. He's shaking violently as he tries to button his pants multiple times. His fingers just keep slipping, though. 

Dean steps forward and takes both of Castiel's hands in his. The boy stops moving, every muscle freezing. "Breathe for me."

With a sharp nod, Castiel forces himself to take in air. 

"Match your breathing to mine, okay? In." Dean inhales, giving Castiel an encouraging smile when he does the same. "And out." 

They exhale in sync, Castiel relaxing against him. He continues to breathe with Dean for another minute. Then he must decide he's calm enough, because he wraps his arms around Dean's waist and buries his face in his neck. 

Smiling, Dean hugs Castiel close, placing a kiss to the top of his head. "We don't have to talk about it, okay? I won't make you talk about it. Let's just get cleaned up and go to bed."

Castiel nods and whispers, "Thank you." 

"Just keep breathing for me." Dean gently pulls away from Castiel and guides him to the sink. He runs two washcloths under warm water, then wrings them out. When he turns to Castiel, the boy looks calm. Serene, even. Not at all what Dean expected. 

Castiel only relaxes further as Dean begins to carefully clean him. He doesn't protest when he's stripped naked. Doesn't even tense up when Dean washes his spent cock and cum-covered thighs. Just closes his eyes and shivers when the cloth is dragged over his nearly-healed marks. 

Castiel doesn't say a word until Dean is done. As Dean reaches for the other washcloth, intending to clean himself, Castiel asks, "Can I?"

With a nod, Dean hands Castiel the cloth. Usually, he'd tell a sub to just relax and let him take care of them, but this is clearly what Castiel needs. Plus, Dean already knows Castiel won't be like any other sub. Dean has a feeling he'll have trouble ever saying no to the boy. 

When they’re both clean, Dean leads Castiel into the bedroom. He doesn’t mention the idea of getting dressed. Neither does Castiel. He just remains quiet, allowing Dean to guide him to Castiel’s side of the bed, pushing down gently on his shoulder to make Castiel sit. Dean reaches for the burgundy throw that seems to be Castiel’s favorite, wrapping it around his shoulders and helping pile the extra fabric over his lap and legs. Bright blue eyes look up at him, glassy with a sleepy happiness. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” 

“Mmmm.” Castiel nods as he makes the noise, smiling like a goof. 

Dean plants a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head, then hurries out of the room to get his boy a bottled water from the fridge. He stops in his playroom to turn off the fucking machine and the lights, stopping first to grab a snack from his snack basket he keeps in there. 

When he returns to the bedroom, Castiel is slumped with his head resting half-against the headboard and half-against his pillow. He blinks up slowly at Dean when he registers him standing there, but doesn’t move from his position. 

Dean makes a mental note to bring a bendy straw next time. 

_Next time._

Dean smiles to himself, feeling warmth pooling in his chest and traveling through the rest of his body as he thinks about that. He hopes this wasn’t a fluke. He hopes Castiel doesn’t regret it all in the morning. 

He wants there to be a next time.

He wants there to be a million next times. 

He wants Castiel to be his, completely his, always. 

“Sit up for me, baby,” he says quietly, kneeling in front of the boy. He helps Castiel shift until he’s at least up enough to take a drink.

When Dean takes the cap off of the bottle and offers it to Castiel, all the boy does is stare down at it for a few seconds, then look at Dean in need. He parts his lips, and Dean swears if he had just a few more minutes, he would have gotten hard all over again. 

“Okay. I’ll help you. No problem.” Dean comes closer, placing the opening of the bottle against Castiel’s bottom lip. He very slowly tips the bottle, pausing when he reaches the point where the water begins to trickle into Castiel’s mouth. The boy pulls away when he’s had enough, causing a few water drops to fall on his chin and blanket. Dean wipes the water from Castiel’s face with his thumb, then pulls out the candy he took from his playroom. 

“Can you eat this for me? Then I want one more drink from you, and we’ll go to sleep. Sound good?”

Castiel gives him a lazy nod and opens his mouth again, silently requesting Dean feed him the mini-chocolate bar. He wraps his lips around the candy, but also around the tip of Dean’s finger, staring at Dean with clear purpose as he rolls his tongue around his mouth. Dean watches in a trance as Castiel melts the chocolate against his finger, then sucks it off of him. By the time Castiel is finished, pulling away with a tired but flirty smile, Dean’s hard again. When Castiel looks down and sees that, he starts to squirm. 

_Oh boy._

Dean closes his eyes for a second to compose himself. This was overwhelming for Castiel. Even if that hasn’t sunk in yet for the boy, it will. Tonight was a huge step, not just for their relationship, but for Castiel’s sex life as well. He did a scene, even if he’s not fully aware of that. Dean needs to take care of Castiel now. His greedy cock can wait. 

“Okay,” Dean says with a deep breath, opening his eyes and grabbing the water bottle. He helps Castiel take another drink, thankful the boy doesn’t play any more games with him. Never before has Dean had trouble keeping himself in check with a submissive, but Castiel is so different. Everything about this has been different. He’s not sure how long he’d be able to resist Castiel if the boy pressed him tonight. 

Thankfully, Castiel just curls up in his blanket and lays back against his pillow when the water is taken from his lips. He watches Dean with hooded eyes as Dean walks around the bed and climbs into his own side. He turns the light off and rolls over to face Castiel. 

He’s surprised to find that Castiel is facing him now. He looks at him in the dark, only able to see a rough outline with his eyes still struggling to adjust. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see well, though. Dean can _feel_.

And he _feels _when Castiel opens up his blanket and wiggles until he’s pressed against Dean’s chest. Castiel is warm and soft, his body pliant and sleepy. He wraps part of the blanket around Dean by circling his arm over the top of Dean’s torso. Dean pulls him in tighter and rolls onto his back so Castiel can be more comfortable. He pulls Castiel’s pillow over with his free hand, but the boy just mumbles something incoherent and nuzzles against Dean’s chest, letting him know he wants to use Dean as a pillow instead. 

Smiling, Dean lets go of the pillow and sinks down into his own, letting his eyes fall closed. He kisses Castiel’s hair, then presses his cheek against the curls. “Good night, sweetheart.”

Castiel hums in pleasure before whispering, “Night, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since I last posted - please forgive me 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** The song in this that Castiel wrote exists in real life. It's called For the Lost Ones by The Daydream Club && it's beautiful/worth checking out <3 ***

When Castiel wakes up, it’s still dark outside. It takes all of ten seconds for the memories from last night to come slamming back into his mind. Then he’s practically diving off the bed and hurrying to grab whatever clothes he can find so he can run as far away from Dean as possible. 

He ends up stopping closer than he expected, settling himself at the grand piano near the entrance of the mansion. Castiel had forgotten it was even here, but his subconscious must not have. The moment he set eyes on the instrument, it had felt like he could breathe. 

Hoping the house is large enough where he won't disturb anyone - other than the few security guards he's passed who are clearly awake already - Castiel places his fingers on the oh-so-familiar home keys and closes his eyes. It's not long before he's sucked into the music, a rendition _of Rhapsody in Blue_ slowly fading into his own piece he wrote a few years back, just before his suicide attempt. 

It isn't until he's bringing his song to an end, absentmindedly playing a simple melody as he thinks of what he'd like to play next, that Castiel notices he's no longer alone. His fingers stumble clumsily on the keys, making an awful sound. 

"That was beautiful," Dean says quietly, obviously not referring to the noise Castiel made when he was startled by his fiancé’s appearance. 

"Th-thank you."

"Who wrote it?"

Castiel blushes, looking down at the keys. "It’s mine, actually."

He hears Dean shift, then watches out of the corner of his eye as Dean sits down on the other end of the piano bench. "Does it have a title?"

"_For The Lost Ones._" 

"Mmm. Fitting." Dean scoots closer, making Castiel's hands tremble again. Thankfully they're no longer resting on the keys. "Would you play it again for me?" 

Biting his bottom lip, Castiel just nods. He places his fingers on the proper keys and takes a breath to steady himself. It’s surprisingly easy to slip back into playing. Usually, Castiel gets flustered performing for people - even Gabriel - but Dean is different. He feels completely relaxed. 

In fact, he might even _enjoy _having Dean by his side. 

At some point during the song, Dean’s hand snakes up the back of Castiel’s shirt. Well, Dean’s shirt, which Castiel is wearing. It’s not a sexual touch. It’s possessive. Reassuring. Just a steady reminder that Dean is _there_. 

When Castiel fades the song out, he sneaks a peek up at Dean. The man is looking at him like he hung the moon. For the first time, it doesn’t make Castiel blush or uncomfortable. Instead, he lifts up and presses his lips to Dean’s soft smile. It’s a tentative kiss, one that Dean allows him to completely control, but it’s perfect. 

Castiel pulls back enough to breathe, keeping his forehead pressed against Dean’s. They stay that way, breathing each other in. 

“Why’d you leave the bed?” Dean asks after a while. 

"My head was too full,” Castiel admits. “Came down to clear it, I guess."

Dean cups the side of Castiel's face and stares into his eyes, clearly searching for something. After a moment, his forehead wrinkles smoothe out and he offers Castiel a sad smile. "Let's go back to bed."

"Dean-"

"Just to sleep, Castiel. Nothing more."

“What if I want more?”

Something flashes in Dean’s eyes. A beautiful mixture of lust, and need, and happiness. “Let’s go back to bed,” he says again. 

Castiel nods. He allows Dean to take him by the hand and walk him back to their suite. Back to their room. Back to their bed. He allows Dean to lay him down. To strip him free of clothing before stripping himself. Allows Dean to drape his body on top of his. 

Castiel shivers when their skin touches, then sighs in satisfaction. Their hard cocks press together. Both leaking. He feels Dean’s chest hitch as he tries to control his breathing. Tries to stay calm. It makes Castiel smile to know that he has enough of a pull on Dean where he can unravel the man. 

“Want you so bad,” Dean admits in a low, growled plea. “Need you, Cas.”

Nodding, Castiel lifts himself slightly off the bed to grind their cocks together. “Take me.”

“No lube in here. No condoms.” Dean pulls back, giving Castiel a conflicted look of frustration. “Maybe we should wait.”

“Maybe we should go to the playroom,” Castiel counters. 

That’s apparently all of the fight Dean has in him, because he quickly scoops Castiel up and tosses him over his shoulder. Castiel yelps but then giggles to himself as Dean carries him down the hall to the playroom. 

It’s when Dean is placing Castiel on the bed that Castiel’s heart begins to race. 

Wait. 

This is… this is big. 

Really big. 

This is his virginity. 

_What if Dean fucks him really hard? What if it hurts? What if he’s terrible at it? What if Dean doesn’t like him? Doesn’t like how he… does… whatever it is he’s supposed to do? What _is _Castiel supposed to do? Should he call him sir? Dean? Nothing? Should he get on his knees, or stay on his back where Dean placed him? Should he-_

“Hey, hey, hey, shhh,” Dean’s warm voice brings Castiel down from his mental spin. All of the thoughts still pulse beneath the surface, ready to overwhelm him again, but for now, Dean has them at bay. Especially once Castiel looks up into Dean’s kind green eyes. “Shhh. I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here.”

Castiel releases an embarrassing whimper, clinging to Dean like his life depends on it. He screws his eyes shut and buries his face in Dean’s neck. “Sorry. ‘M sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s late. It’s been a big night. We’re going to get some sleep now, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel holds his breath, trying to fight off the need to cry. When he has it under control, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“No more of that,” Dean says firmly, but kindly. “There is nothing to be sorry for. Understood?”

“But-”

“Understood?” Dean asks again, his voice made of steel as he looks at Castiel with a stern expression. 

Feeling his mind calm for an unexplainable reason, Castiel nods. “Understood, sir.”

That _something_ in Dean’s eyes that Castiel saw earlier flashes again. Then he gives Castiel a wide, delighted smile. “Good boy.”

When he blushes under the praise, Dean chuckles. It makes Castiel want to hide his face, but Dean catches his wrists before his hands can reach their destination. He closes his eyes instead. Dean presses a kiss to Castiel’s forehead with another soft laugh before turning them in the bed, expertly getting them into a comfortable position within seconds. 

Relaxing against Dean’s chest, using it as a pillow like he did earlier tonight, Castiel finds himself smiling. 

The peaceful happiness is short-lived when Dean’s chest rumbles with low words. “Can you tell me what made you upset?” 

Feeling his heart race, Castiel manages to just shrug a shoulder, pressing his face harder against the Hunter emblem tattooed on Dean’s right pec. He brings a hand up to trace the rest of Dean’s tattoos. He finds it surprisingly soothing. 

Enough to admit, as his fingertip trails along Dean’s_ Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked_ tattoo on his rib cage, that, “I’m a virgin.”

Dean makes a sound that’s caught between choking and gasping. He clears his throat twice. “You - you’re a _what?_”

“Virgin.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Castiel laughs softly, praying Charlie was telling the truth. Praying he isn’t about to ruin this. “I’m serious.”

“Completely? Like… you’ve never had sex? At all?”

“Yup.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

Dean rolls so that Castiel is flat on his back. The large man hovers over him, eyebrows pulled in. “Okay. I - okay.” 

“Is it? Okay, I mean?”

Dean’s face softens. “Yes, of course. More than okay. I just wish I had known.”

“What would you have done differently?”

“Earlier tonight? Nothing. But I wouldn’t have tried that just now. There is much more I want to do with you before taking that step.”

“Like what?”

“Well, what have you done before? With another man. Or woman, if you’re into them too.”

Castiel feels himself blushing again. He hates that Dean is above him, because there’s no way to hide here. All he can do is stare up at the man he’s pretty damn sure he loves and confess, “I’ve kissed a few guys.”

“_Kissed_.” Dean puffs out the word, then laughs. It’s not an amused laugh. He’s not making fun of Castiel. It’s more of an elated, proud laugh. Like he’s victorious. Like Castiel is this beautiful prize that Dean can’t quite figure out how he got so lucky to have. 

It warms Castiel until he feels like he might float away. The feeling only grows when his eyes lock with Dean’s. 

Dean smiles, one hand coming up to push some curls off of Castiel’s forehead. He keeps his hand buried in Castiel’s hair after, resting his thumb against Castiel’s temple. As he rubs small circles into the spot, Dean whispers, “I’m going to take such good care of you, Castiel.”

“Promise?” Castiel asks with an embarrassing amount of fear and vulnerability. 

“I promise.” 

As if he’s sealing the deal with a kiss, Dean lowers his mouth to Castiel’s. Their lips are hesitant at first, feeling each other out, seeing where everything belongs. The kiss is slow. Deliberate. So sweet and tender that Castiel can’t help but shiver, not from arousal, but from feeling loved and cherished. It’s an exceptional feeling. 

By the time Dean pulls away, Castiel feels fuzzy and sleepy. He nuzzles the palm of Dean’s hand and yawns. Dean smiles down at him with adoration before scooping him up and cradling him bridal style. 

“Thought this was supposed to be what ya do the night of the wedding,” Castiel teases, eyes falling closed as Dean carries them from the playroom to their bedroom. 

Dean’s laugh is barely audible, but Castiel feels it vibrate Dean’s chest against his cheek. “I don’t think we’re a very traditional couple. We can probably skirt around a few of the rules.”

Castiel nods, yawning again. He thinks that they’ve been walking for a very long time. Forever. He can’t stay awake any longer. Dean will just have to deal with him falling asleep in his arms. It’s not like it’s Castiel’s fault. Dean’s the one walking like a damn sloth, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever if you'd like! I'd appreciate it (: <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Back with more - sorry again for the long waits, & that I haven't replied back to comments yet. My life is a fucking mess right now but I want you all to know I appreciate you all so much and your comments help me so much when I'm down <3 Thank you for sticking with me even though I'm a hot mess <3 <3 <3

Dean lays beside Castiel in their bed, propped up on one elbow with his head resting in the palm of his hand. The boy hadn’t even made it back to their room before passing out. Considering there can’t be more than twenty steps from the playroom door to the bedroom door, it’s a fairly impressive feat. Not surprising, though. Dean knew that the first scene had wrung Castiel out. Take into account Castiel had a hard time sleeping because his mind felt too cluttered, he almost lost his virginity to a man who wouldn’t have known he needed to be gentle or slow, and he had a panic attack, and Dean’s only surprised Castiel didn’t pass out sooner. 

Having far too much on his mind to even think about sleeping, Dean rolls out of bed the moment the sun rises, changing into shorts and a shirt and stuffing his feet in his tennis shoes. His security detail silently falls in behind him as he begins running down the long, winding driveway. The steady staccato of rubber against pavement helps calm the chaos in Dean’s head. 

A virgin. 

A fucking virgin.

It’s like the holy grail, but with a catch - the catch being that it’s made of a delicate crystal that can shatter with one wrong move. 

First things first, Dean needs to rein things in immediately. There’s no more being in denial about his feelings. He can’t be. It’s Dean’s job, not just as Castiel’s future husband but also as his potential dominant, to do what’s best for Castiel. Lying to himself, lying to Castiel, will do nothing but cause damage and confusion. It would hurt Castiel, something Dean never wants to do. 

Dean’s falling for Castiel - falling fucking hard and fast and recklessly - and he’s going to embrace that, because this can’t be just sex. It has to be more. 

It has to be _everything_. 

And Dean doesn’t know how to do that. The last date he went on, he was fifteen and trying to get into the pants of a high-maintenance jock. Two burgers and a shared milkshake later, he had achieved his goal. Then he moved on. 

Not exactly romantic. 

_Should Dean work on dating Castiel first? Bringing him places? Showering him with gifts? Developing a relationship? Then bring sex and bdsm into it? Or should he focus more on the sex and bdsm side of things? Bring him to clubs? To a munch? Teach him? Just let their feelings and relationship develop naturally? Or should he be doing both at once? What’s best for Castiel? What’s best-_

“Sir!” A rough hand on Dean’s bicep yanks him backward, sending both him and the person who grabbed him to the ground. 

“The fuck,” Dean growls, hopping back to his feet and whipping around to stare at who touched him. 

Garth gulps but stands his ground. “You were about to run into oncoming traffic, sir.” 

Dean looks over his shoulder, shocked when he sees the busy road. That means he’s run over six miles already. Now that he’s realizing this, he can feel the fatigue settling in his body, weighing him down. He can definitely see it in his men as well. They’re all in excellent shape, they have to be, but a twelve-mile run is still extremely long without proper preparation. He hadn’t even told them he was going out. They had to have scrambled to follow, dropping everything. 

“Sorry. We can head on back now.” 

They all sigh in relief, waiting for him to lead the way. Guilt presses on his chest as he realizes how much he’s fucked up in the past few hours. First with Castiel, and now with his own men. Dean always hated how much of an ass his father was to the lackeys, like their only purpose in life was to exist solely to serve him. Dean never wanted to be like that. 

He definitely owes these guys an extra-large breakfast, and probably a bonus. 

When the house comes into view, Dean slows down to a walk and begins catching his breath. The men form a semi-circle behind him, making Dean feel like he’s one of the popular chicks in a cliche 80’s movie, walking down the high school hallway with his posse. 

Speaking of movies… 

“How lame is it to watch a movie on the first date? Is there anything good out right now?”

Everyone looks at him, then each other, with wide eyes. It’s Garth that feels confident enough to speak. “A little lame, sir.” 

“Nothing good out, either,” Aaron adds. 

Dean sighs. “Well, what do people do for first dates? I want something, ya know, better than good. Something special. Important.”

Still looking slightly afraid, the men all awkwardly shuffle and avoid eye contact. 

_Great_. The Hunters are either all socially awkward with no game, or they see him like the monster his father was. 

Thankfully, Aaron creates a spark of hope by suggesting, “What about a nice dinner? Somewhere fancy. Intimate and quiet so you can talk.” 

This leads to Max piping up from the back. “_Exquis_ is supposed to be phenomenal. Impossible to get into, though.”

“Yeah, I hear you have to know someone to even get a reservation.”

“He’s Dean Winchester, I’m sure he can get around that,” Garth says on a laugh. 

They all laugh with him, even Dean. It’s true. Dean knows the owner of the restaurant. He owns half of downtown. 

But is dinner the right first move? Or does he bring Castiel to a club tonight instead? 

Figuring his men wouldn’t want to chime in on this particular issue, Dean heads inside in search of Charlie. Hopefully, the feisty red-head has some advice. 

  
\---- 

Castiel is in the middle of chewing a delicious bite of his omelet when Dean walks into the kitchen, shirtless and dripping sweat. His shirt is slung lazily over his shoulder, his loose athletic shorts hanging low off his hips. Castiel can’t help but lick his lips as he watches every shift of his body. He studies the way Dean’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his bottled water. Appreciates the way his black angel wings on his back, shoulders, and triceps look as he moves. 

When Dean turns to face the table, he looks startled to find Castiel sitting with the others. The shock quickly turns to joy. He flashes Castiel a toothy grin that stops Castiel’s heart and says, “Good morning.”

Everyone around the table quickly responds to their boss’s greeting. Castiel and Dean exchange a secret smile before Castiel mouths the words, “Good morning,” back to him. 

Unfortunately, Dean pops the happy bubble right after. “Char. Come with me.”

Charlie screws her nose up. “Can’t you shower first.”

“I’ll shower while we talk. Chop chop.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Charlie takes her mug of coffee from the table and scurries after Dean, saying something that Castiel can’t quite make out. Whatever it is, though, makes Dean chuckle. 

Castiel wants more than anything to go spy on them, but he knows that’s wrong. He decides to do the next best thing. 

“Benny?”

Benny’s head snaps up, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“Do you think maybe I could call my brother?”

“Of course.” Benny takes a final sip of water and pushes to his feet. He gestures for Castiel to follow him, surprising Castiel by leading him down the hallway and into Dean’s office. Castiel gives Benny a look, clearly unsure, but Benny just smiles. “Anything he wouldn’t want you to see is password protected. He won’t mind.” 

“Okay.” Castiel awkwardly lowers himself into Dean’s rather large leather desk chair. 

“Just dial 4 before the number, and make sure to use his area code.”

Castiel nods, giving Benny a weak smile. “Thank you, Benny.”

“Of course. I’ll close the door behind me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Once the heavy wooden door is closed, Castiel finds himself looking around for a moment. It’s clearly an important person’s office. Warm lighting, leather seats, bookcases filled with the classics, a globe that’s probably not even accurate, a decanter of scotch with crystal glasses beside it. It all screams wealth and power. 

That’s probably why Castiel’s hand is slightly shaking when he picks up the phone and dials Gabriel’s number. 

It rings too many times, making Castiel’s heart race and his stomach turn. He didn’t realize how badly he needed to talk to Gabriel until now. This isn’t just filling the time until Dean is free. Castiel needs his brother. 

Thankfully, Gabriel picks up before the voicemail kicks in.

“Yello!” Gabriel answers in a booming, happy voice. 

“Gabe - hey!”

“Cassie! Holy hell baby brother, how are you?”

“I’m okay.” Castiel fiddles with the phone cord. “How are you?”

Gabriel scoffs. “Oh, ya know. Just livin’ the life here at the Novak house.” 

“Why don’t you leave?”

“I will eventually. Don’t worry about me. How are you feeling? Dean was keeping me updated when you were sick.”

Castiel rolls his eyes but finds himself smiling. “Of course he was.”

“He’s pretty smitten with you.”

“Smitten? Who even talks like that?”

“Don’t go dodging the topic, Cassie. How are you? Really?”

“I’m good. The pills don’t make me sick anymore, and my appetite is back. Way back. I had the best french toast in existence yesterday, and I am bringing you to that restaurant first chance I get.” 

He hums. “I am 100% on board with that plan. Suppose it’s too soon to see how the pills are helping mentally, hey?”

“Probably. But I’m doing pretty okay in that department.” Castiel’s cheeks burn. “So… um… a thing happened last night.”

The noise that comes from his brother is one that makes Castiel immediately regret starting this conversation. “Spill it. Every detail. Now.”

“I take it back. Nothing happened.”

“Oh! Oh-oh-oh no! You can’t do that. Come on, now. Fill big brother in.”

Castiel glances at the door to Dean’s office, making sure the coast is still clear. “Okay, you know how I told you about the whole playroom and bdsm thing last time we talked?”

“Definitely.”

“I figured out a way to sneak in there. And he - he sort of caught me.”

“He caught you in the playroom?” he practically squeals, clearly scandalized. 

“Yup.”

“Aaaaand?”

“Aaaaand we sort of - well we - I -”

“Spit it out, Cassie. The anticipation is killing me.”

As if all he needed was permission, Castiel blurts out, “He started telling me all the stuff he’d do to me in there, like really hot stuff, and then I got flustered and had to get out of there, so I ran off and hid in the bathroom. And I started jacking off because that thing wasn’t going away, Gabe, it needed to be handled. But then he showed up on the other side of the door and somehow fucking figured it out! And then he started jacking off, and the dirty talk started up again. After, he cleaned me up and took care of me and we went to bed.”

“Damn.” Gabriel whistles. “Baby brother has game.”

“Game? What about any of that says _game _to you?”

He laughs loudly. “None of it, I suppose. You’re sort of a loser. But it worked out in the end anyway, so who cares, right?”

“Right.” Castiel winds the phone cord around his forefinger. 

“Did anything else happen.”

“Well, I woke up in the middle of the night and went to play the piano. I-”

“Uh oh,” Gabriel says, interrupting him. “Piano in the middle of the night… that’s never good.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

There’s a brief pause, and Castiel can actually feel things turn serious. “What’d you decide?”

“He interrupted me before I could really think about everything.”

“Oh?”

“Then, we almost had sex.”

“Jesus.” Castiel hears Gabriel shifting on the other end of the phone. “What do you mean, _almost_?”

Castiel glances at the door again, paranoid that Dean will overhear him. “I sort of had a panic attack. And then confessed to being a virgin.”

“That fucker stopped, right?” Gabriel growls. 

“Yeah, Gabe. Hence the _almost_.”

“Just makin’ sure, baby bro.”

“I know, I know.”

“Sooo, what did he say?”

Castiel plays dumb. “About what?”

“Being a virgin, idiot.”

“Ah, yes, _that_. Dean was… good about it. I think maybe I weirded him out, though. He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, and I woke up pretty early.”

“Maybe he was just busy.”

“Maybe…” 

“Was he weird this morning?” 

“I dunno. Maybe? He smiled… and said good morning… to everyone. Drank some water. And then grabbed his friend and left to go take a shower.”

“To take a shower with his friend?”

“No. His friend is gay - a girl kind of gay. She’s a lesbian, I mean. He probably just wanted to talk to her. But she’s into the same kind of stuff he is. Ya know, like bdsm and all that. I’m just worried that he wanted to talk to her because he regrets it or something. I dunno.” Castiel buries his face in his free hand and groans. “Does that sound stupid?”

“No, Cas. But if he’s gonna throw you away because you’re a virgin, that’s a dick move.”

Castiel sighs. “Charlie claims being a virgin is like the holy grail, especially with him being dominant or whatever.”

There’s another tense silence. Then, “You like him.”

“Yeah, Gabe. I like him a lot.” Despite feeling like he might cry, Castiel forces himself to admit, “I think maybe I’m falling in love with him.”

\---- 

“You’re an idiot,” Charlie says for the third time. “You don’t get to pick and choose, Dean. If you want a relationship that works with him, you need both aspects of your life to be included. So do them at the same time. You can be navigating a relationship and falling in love and going on romantic dates while simultaneously teaching him and playing with him. How do you think established doms and subs start out when they’re dating? They don’t put the kink side of themselves on hold.”

“He’s a virgin, though. And extremely inexperienced in our world.”

“So? You’re not an idiot, Dean. Well, I mean, you are, as I’ve pointed out, but seriously. You’ve seen plenty of scenes that are non-sexual, or that don’t end in penetrative sex. You’ve taught scenes like that. Workshops, too.” Charlie hands Dean a towel as he steps out of the shower, not even flinching at his naked body. “Do what feels right, Dean. Trust your instincts. You have phenomenal instincts.”

Dean sighs, staring himself down in the fogged bathroom mirror. “He clouds every instinct, Char. I don’t know how to be a dom and in love.”

With a smirk, Charlie gives him a patronizing pat on the shoulder and heads to the door. “Good thing he doesn’t know how to be a sub and in love. You’ll just have to learn together.”

After giving Charlie a parting bitchface that would rival Sam’s, Dean gets dressed quickly and heads into the main house, tucking his gun in his holster just before stepping out of the personal wing. He buttons his jacket and smoothes his hands over his front, feeling self-conscious. 

This is ridiculous. He had the boy naked in his bed last night for god sake. All Dean is doing is asking him out for dinner. 

On a date. 

His first date in over a decade. 

He starts playing the conversation out in his head, needing to sound confident and dominating, but he’s cut off by Castiel being where he’s not supposed to be. The intel provided by Benny is apparently incorrect. Seven minutes ago, when Dean inquired about the boy’s whereabouts in the house, he was told Castiel was reading a book out on the porch swing. 

But here he is, book in hand, walking straight toward Dean with an adorably shy smile. 

_Get it together, Winchester. You’ve got this. _

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” His eyes scan Dean’s body quickly before making their way back to his face. “Working today?”

“Unfortunately. I have a few meetings in town.” Dean shifts on his feet and sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad I found you, though. I was hoping to ask you to dinner tonight.”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “D-dinner?”

“Yes.”

“With you.”

“Yes.”

“Tonight.”

Dean smirks, his confidence growing with every nervous squirm and blush and shaky word Castiel gives him. “Yes, Castiel. Dinner with me tonight.”

“Um… yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Castiel white knuckles the book he’s holding, using both hands as if the 4x6 tiny clump of papers would try to tear itself out of his grip. “Dinner tonight sounds… good. Great. Really great, actually.” 

Needing to put the poor boy out of his misery, Dean reaches out and places a gentle hand on Castiel’s cheek. His blush darkens, but he leans into the touch and hums in appreciation. Every muscle in his body relaxes. Dean can practically see the submissive switch getting flipped. Castiel’s going to be a natural. 

Dean can’t wait to get him into a club. 

He can’t wait another day. 

“I was also wondering if you’d like to accompany me to my club after,” Dean says slowly and deliberately, wanting to give Castiel time to process. 

Two big, blue eyes look at him with a mixture of excitement and fear. “Club?”

“Yes. _Shadows_.” 

“It’s your club? Like you own it?”

“Oh, no, not at all. A close friend of mine owns it, though. I just meant mine as in the club I’m a member of. It’s the best in the city. One of the best in the country.” Dean stops himself when he realizes he’s starting to ramble. He takes a breath, steadies, and continues. “No expectations. I won’t even touch you tonight. I’d just like you to dip your toe in.”

Castiel pulls away, making Dean’s stomach twist, but then he nods. “I can do that.”

“Great. That’s - that’s great.” Dean grins ear to ear, feeling like a kid on Christmas. “That’s great. Then I’ll see you tonight? I’ll let you know what time once I have the reservation.”

Looking nearly as giddy as Dean, Castiel echoes, “See you tonight.”

  


\---- 

  


Dean changes his suit three times. Just as he’s buttoning the jacket of a three-piece grey Brioni, Benny strolls into his room with a smirk. “Ready for the royal ball yet, princess?”

“Fuck you.” Dean turns to the side, checking himself out in the mirror. “None of ‘em feel right.”

“They’re ten grand a pop. They damn well better start feelin’ right.”

With a scoff, Dean flips his collar up and starts to take off his tie. “Maybe the black will work better.”

“Do that one - no that one,” Benny corrects, pointing to a navy blue tie. “That’ll look good. There’s a little blue tint to the light gray shirt you’re wearing.”

Dean and Benny lock eyes for a moment before bursting into obnoxious, snorting laughter. When Dean recovers first, he grabs the navy blue tie - because Benny is right, it would go better than the black - and teases, “Someone’s been watching too much _Queer Eye_.”

“I seem to recall a certain someone watching it with me the other night.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean adjusts his tie and looks at himself in the mirror again. “What do we think?”

“We like it,” Benny assures. “But it needs a pocket square. Here.”

Benny takes a simple light blue pocket square that matches the dress shirt beneath Dean’s vest and suit jacket, placing it in Dean’s pocket with a presidential fold. 

Okay… 

So, Dean and Benny watch _Queer Eye_. 

Religiously. 

If anyone ever accused them of this, they’d be in for a grisly mafia-related execution. Consider it their dirty little secret. Some men in this business have a nice little drug habit on the side. Others keep pleasure slaves they purchased from the black market. 

Dean and Benny watch _Queer Eye_. 

“What time are ya’ll leaving?” Benny asks as they walk out of the bedroom and down the main hall. They’re headed in the wrong direction, straight towards the playroom door, but if Benny notices, he says nothing. 

“The reservation is at 7.” Dean checks his Rolex and makes a face. “Is Castiel ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll be with us tonight?”

“Yes, sir. Myself and Charlie, as you asked.”

“Good.” Dean fiddles with his tie, ignoring the way his hand slightly trembles. 

Benny, as always, catches onto his anxiety. Ever since they were little boys, Benny’s been able to do that. 

“Dean, no one will harm him tonight. I swear to you.”

“I know.” Dean opens the playroom door with his key and turns one of the main lights on. Benny keeps his eyes on Dean but doesn’t follow him past the entrance. 

“Are you worried because of what happened to John? Because that was much different. John was-”

“No.” Dean looks over his shoulder at Benny from where he’s standing across the room. “It’s not about John.”

It takes Benny a minute. Long enough for Dean to find what he came into the playroom looking for. He pockets it and walks back towards his best friend just as Benny says, “It’s because you love him.”

Dean just side-eyes him, which is answer enough. He expects Benny to make fun of him. 

He doesn’t. 

That’s how they both know it’s real. This thing - this relationship - this _love_ \- this new life Dean’s about to build - it’s all very real. 

\---- 

Castiel is thirsty. Dying-in-the-desert thirsty. But he’s certain that if he lifts his hand and reaches for the glass in front of him, he’ll knock it over from how shaky he is. They’ve been here less than five minutes, and Castiel already feels ready to bolt. 

And it doesn’t help that Dean looks the exact opposite, sitting across from him at the table, confident and sexy in his nice suit. Not at all affected. 

Knowing things will just get worse if he focuses on Dean, Castiel decides to look around instead. The restaurant is nice. 

No, nice is definitely the wrong word. 

It’s beautiful. Elegant. Fancy. 

It’s all white table cloths and low lighting. Crystal chandeliers and candles. Soft music coming live from a piano in the corner. 

When a glass of wine is placed in front of him, Castiel nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up at the waiter with wide eyes, about to tell him that he didn’t order this, that he’s not even 21, but Dean thanks the waiter and sends him away. 

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes, biting his lip when he sees the heat in the man’s gaze. “I - I didn’t order this.”

“I’m aware. You were off in la-la-land while I did it for you. Feel free to order something else, though. That’s just my favorite.” 

After a quick glance at the glass of red wine, Castiel focuses back on Dean. His hands curl into fists in his lap. He’ll most certainly knock something down if he has to try and navigate between a water glass _and _a wine glass. 

Thankfully, Dean offers him a leather-covered menu, high enough off the table for Castiel to take it without worrying about spilling or breaking anything. Of course, Castiel ends up just getting more nervous as he surveys the menu. He hasn’t been out to eat in at least a year, and even then, his father never brought them to places like this. This is… this is the kind of place people try their entire lives to eat at. The kind of place that’s practically a secret. A mystery. Castiel overheard Benny and Charlie talking earlier. All Dean had to do was make a three-minute phone call - the first two minutes consisting of greetings and pleasantries - to get them this table. 

It’s overwhelming. 

“What are you thinking of getting?” Dean asks conversationally. 

Castiel blinks a few times, the blurred words on the menu coming into focus. He white-knuckles it with both hands and tries to find something he can easily pronounce. “The filet mignon with the ravioli looks good.”

A corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up, and Castiel immediately knows he messed up. That’s Dean’s ‘oh, he’s so adorable’ face. “That does sound delicious, Castiel.”

Castiel picks at the corner of his menu. “W - what are you getting?”

“I thought we could start with some oysters, or perhaps some scallops?”

“Oh.” Castiel looks at the top of the menu, face heating up. Obviously a place like this is going to serve multiple courses.

“Or something else. I’m not very particular. You can choose.”

Castiel has a feeling ‘particular’ is a word that very accurately describes Dean Winchester, but he won’t point that out. Dean’s being kind but giving Castiel some control here. The strange thing, though, is Castiel wishes he wouldn’t. He has too much damn anxiety right now. He’s so overwhelmed. Between this fancy date and their night at the club, so many possibilities and worries and potentially disastrous mistakes he could make are swarming in his head. 

He can feel his eyes burning but refuses to blink. If he blinks, he’s certain a tear will fall. 

By the time Castiel hears Dean say his name, it’s clear he’s said it a few times by the slight desperation in his voice. Castiel blinks, that damn tear falling, and he notices that Dean has put his hand over Castiel’s. Which means at some point he took away the menu, too. 

Castiel stares at their tangled fingers in awe. 

How did Dean do all of that without knocking anything over? 

And why is knocking things over all he can fucking care about right now when there are so many more important issues to focus on?

“Castiel,” Dean says again. When Castiel lifts his eyes to look at Dean, another tear falls. The pain in Dean’s expression is evident. “Would you like to go?”

_See? He ruined it. He fucking ruined it already._

Pulling his hand away from Dean, Castiel practically slaps a hand at his face to wipe away the tears. He pastes on a wobbly smile that his father taught him to wear and shakes his head. “I’m fine. I’m okay. Just - just overwhelmed a bit.”

Dean stares at him for a long few seconds before sitting up straight in his chair and tilting his head ever so slightly. Castiel sees the switch that exists inside of Dean flip. One moment, he’s a concerned man on his first date. The next, he’s a confident dom whose only concern is his sub. 

“Come with me,” Dean says firmly, pushing to his feet and offering Castiel a hand. 

Feeling absolutely terrible, Castiel puts his trembling hand in the palm of Dean’s and allows himself to be guided away. They pass a table with Benny and Charlie, and Castiel notices that Benny immediately stands up once they’ve walked by, falling into step behind them. 

Surprisingly, Dean doesn’t lead Castiel out of the restaurant. He leads him into the bathroom instead. 

Benny waits right outside the door. 

After a sweep that lasts only a few seconds, Dean has Castiel backed up against the door, hands on both sides of Castiel’s head to cage him in and ensure that the door won’t open. Not that Castiel believes Benny would let anyone inside, anyway. 

“Castiel, eyes on me,” he softly orders, a cool undertone to his voice that makes Castiel shiver in the best kind of way. Once he snaps his eyes up to meet Dean’s gaze, Dean smiles. “There you are beautiful.”

Blushing, Castiel starts to look away. He’s stopped by Dean’s thumb and forefinger gripping his chin and holding him steady. Not sure what else to do, he stares at the knot on Dean’s tie. 

“You have one choice, Castiel. In the next two hours, no matter what we’re doing, you’re getting one choice. That’s it. Okay?”

Not fully understanding, Castiel just tentatively nods. 

“Will you let me step in and be your dominant for tonight? Will you surrender your control to me? Every other decision from this point forward belonging to me and only me?”

It’s the easiest question Castiel’s ever been asked. 

“Yes, sir.”

Dean grins, looking incredibly pleased. “Good. Then we are going to go back to our table, and you will obey me. I’ll tell you all expectations. I’ll order your food and drinks. I’ll steer the conversation. I will not allow you to be set up for failure. I will take care of you. Understood?”

Castiel releases a sigh in relief. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“There is no possible way you can mess up tonight, because I will be in charge. You have two jobs. Obey me, and enjoy yourself.” Dean places his thumb on Castiel’s bottom lip and runs the pad across it. “If at any time you want to take back your control, say the word red. Understood?” 

“Red,” Castiel repeats. “Understood, sir.”

“Good boy.” Dean straightens Castiel’s sports coat and brushes a curl from his forehead. The look he gives Castiel is possessive. Castiel never thought he’d like the idea of being owned but he thinks being owned by Dean Winchester, at least for the next two hours, would be quite nice. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up, ya'll... buckle up (;

It’s like a whole new man has sat down at the table with Dean. Ever since the bathroom, Castiel’s been smiley and talkative. His muscles are relaxed. He’s finally drinking water and wine, hands no longer trembling. Every breath he takes is calm and easy. 

Dean even got him to laugh just now by telling a story of him and Benny as teenagers. Castiel is now in the middle of sharing his own story about him and Gabriel growing up, his hands moving like crazy through the air as he jabbers on. Dean is listening, but it’s slightly hard to focus. The boy is sucking him into a trance that he’s not sure he wants to fight. 

He is just so goddamn _beautiful_. 

Especially when he’s freed of that weight that usually plagues him. 

Dean can only imagine how Castiel will be when he finally lets go completely in Dean’s playroom. The boy will _fly_. 

“I believe we still have questions left, correct?” Dean asks as their dinner plates are cleared. 

“At least one for sure, yeah.” 

“You may ask me first.”

“Okay.” Castiel runs the tip of his finger along the rim of his wine glass as he thinks. Whatever it is he’s considering seems serious. His hesitancy is thick in the air, even when he finally looks up at Dean and asks, “Did you want this job?”

It’s not at all what Dean expected. 

“You mean, did I want to be the head of The Hunters?”

“Yes.”

“I-” Dean pauses. No one has ever asked him that. He’s never really considered it. There wasn’t much of a choice in the matter… He was the eldest son. From the very start, Dean knew one day the empire would be his. It was just a fact. The sky was blue. Earth was round. Dean Winchester would one day be king. “I don’t know.”

Castiel tilts his head and frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I guess I never considered it enough to know if I had wanted it. If you’re asking if I ever doubted it, ever dreamt of being like an astronaut or something like that, the answer is no. I knew what I’d be, and I didn’t have an issue with it.”

“Do you like it?”

Dean squints down at his empty glass of wine, considering. Does he like it? He thinks he does. 

He’s good at it, he knows that much. Even better than his father. 

But does he _like _it?

_The power. The control. The way everyone fears him. Respects him. The torture. The thrill. The sound of an enemy begging for mercy. The feel of an enemy’s blood slick on his skin. The familiar weight of a gun in his hand. The world at his fingertips. _

“That’s two questions,” Dean says after a very long stretch of silence. It’s an excuse. A poor one. 

Castiel smirks. “Then you can ask me a bonus question when it’s your turn.”

With a sigh that comes out far more dramatic than Dean intended, he decides to answer. He can’t look at Castiel when he does it, though. There’s a sense of shame surrounding it. A gritty sort of guilt. “I do. I like it very much.”

If this surprises Castiel, it doesn’t show in his expression. “Is there anything you don’t like about it?”

“These are a lot of bonus questions.” 

“Last one, I swear.” 

“Mhhm.” Dean tries to glare at Castiel, but he ends up smiling instead. He can’t be mad at the boy. It’s impossible. “I don’t like the danger it puts you in.”

Castiel’s breath hitches. The surprise is evident in every feature of his body. “Really?”

“Of course. You are quickly becoming my everything, Castiel. I’m fully aware that this job - this life - puts you in danger, and I don’t like that. Not in the least.”

“Oh.” Castiel squirms, his cheeks turning pink. If we weren’t in public right now, I would drag him across this table and kiss him until he can’t breathe. “I don’t like that part either. I mean, you being in danger.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

He rolls his eyes. “You aren’t invincible, Dean.”

There’s actual concern in his voice. Anxiety. Fear. 

I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. “You won’t ever lose me.”

“You can’t promi-”

“Castiel,” Dean says in the low voice that always works on a submissive. He shivers, sinking into his chair and eyes locking onto Dean’s as if he’s waiting for a command. “You won’t ever lose me, understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Dean squeezes his hand once before letting go and returning to a comfortable position in his chair. “Now, my three questions.”

“Three?” Castiel squeaks, scandalized. 

“Yup. You got two bonus questions, remember?"

Castiel’s brow furrows, but it’s not from confusion. He knows Dean’s right. He’s just pouting. “Fine, ask away.”

Already having two of his three lined up, Dean dives into question number one. “What would you like to do after you graduate from the Edlund Institute?"

"I still need to get into the place first."

"You're amazing so I don't anticipate that being an issue."

Castiel laughs. "I'm glad you're so confident."

"I am. Don't worry, we'll work on your confidence." Castiel parts his lips, but Dean doesn't give him a chance to speak. "What will you do after the Institute?"

"Well, umm… I've never let myself think about it." Castiel frowns down at his lap for a moment before snapping his eyes up to look at Dean. His grin is radiant. "You know what I think I'd really like?" 

"Hmmm?'

"I think I'd like to do music therapy."

It's not at all what Dean had expected, but he should have. He can easily see it. Castiel, surrounded by instruments, smiling and singing, helping people find their own smiles.

"I think you'd be amazing at that, Cas. You should do it. Does the Institute have a degree for it?"

"I honestly don't know." He laughs a bit incredulously. "I'll have to figure it out, I guess."

"We'll figure it out together." Dean reaches out to take his hand. “Now, for the next one, I want you to be completely honest with me, okay?”

Castiel shifts in his chair, eyebrows pulling in. “Yes. Of course.”

“I want to know what your biggest fear is about going to the club tonight.”

“Oh.” Castiel grabs his glass of wine, draining it of every last drop. It can’t be a good sign. Maybe they shouldn’t go tonight. Maybe Charlie was wrong and they need more time. Maybe - “I’m afraid of embarrassing you.”

Dean blinks slowly, unsure if he heard correctly. “Embarrassing me?”

“Yeah.”

“How would you do that?”

“I - I don’t know. You’re important there. You’re the best.”

“The best?”

Castiel’s cheeks go pink. “Charlie said you’re the best at the club. That you’re like… the holy grail or whatever. You’re really good and respected and everyone wants you.”

“Well, I’m _flattered_, but Charlie is exaggerating.” Castiel rolls his eyes. Confused, Dean sits back in his chair and raises an eyebrow. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“I mean, look at you, Dean. You’re… well, you know.” Castiel blushes even harder. “So, even if you weren’t rich, and a talented dominant or whatever… I can see why you’d be the prize.”

Wanting to be honest with him, but not wanting to add to the anxiety that clearly already exists regarding the subject, Dean sugarcoats. “Charlie’s right. I wouldn’t say I’m the best at the club, it’s a large city and the membership pool is pretty high-end. But I am good. Good enough to be asked by other doms for help. Good enough for the club to ask me to do training and workshops. So, yes, I’m good and I’m respected there, but I’m no holy grail. Not in the least. I’m just another dom.”

When Castiel says nothing, Dean adds, “There’s no possible way you could embarrass me, Cas. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.” Castiel smiles. “I trust you.”

The confession ignites something inside of Dean. Something he didn’t even know existed. It takes everything in his power not to say, “I love you.”

Instead, he lightens the mood. 

“Now, the most important question in the history of questions.” Dean leans forward, fighting a smile at the adorable way Castiel’s eyes go wide. “Are you ready?”

Castiel nods slowly, looking slightly dazed. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Dean pauses for dramatic effect. Then, “What do you want for dessert?”

It takes Castiel a moment to process the question. Then he’s snorting a laugh, his muscles relaxing in relief. “Seriously?”

“Don’t laugh. This is of vital importance.”

“Oh, well, if it’s of _vital importance_.” Castiel grabs the tiny dessert menu that the waiter had left with them. He scans it, a small frown replacing his smile. 

“What?”

Castiel glances up and tilts his head in question. “What?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh. I was just-” Castiel pauses, biting his bottom lip. Then he sighs and admits, “I don’t know what any of this shit is.”

This pulls an unexpected laugh from Dean. “Oh? Let me see.”

Castiel’s probably being dramatic because Dean’s sure the boy knows what a chocolate cake is, as well as cheesecake. He probably doesn’t know the others, though, and even the chocolate cake and the cheesecake are made with pretty strange ingredients. 

“We can skip dessert, then.”

The look Castiel gives Dean is severe and unimpressed. He narrows his eyes and says in a low, almost threatening voice, “We do not skip dessert.”

Dean chuckles. “We don’t?”

“Nope.” Castiel shakes his head, clearly fighting a smile. “Official rule.”

“Oh, really, now? Funny. I could have sworn it was my job to make the rules.”

“As the dom, sure. Have at it.” Castiel gives him a mischievous smile. “As my future husband? We’re on equal ground, my friend. And we do not skip dessert.”

Dean grins. “Fine. We don’t skip dessert. What should we eat then, oh, wise dessert master?” 

“We should go somewhere with an Oreo dessert.”

“Oreo dessert?”

“Yeah! Ya know, Oreo cake or Oreo ice cream or - oh, this one hole in the wall restaurant downtown has this layered pudding thing with Oreos and it’s fucking delicious.”

Dean checks his watch before nodding. “Then we’ll go there. We have time.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Dean pushes his chair back and stands, buttoning his suit jacket again. “You know, I’ve never had Oreos.”

Castiel’s eyes go wide, jaw dropping. _“What?”_

“The opportunity never presented itself.”

“Present it to yourself!”

“I’m sure one day I’ll get around to it. No big deal.”

Castiel splutters. Then he stands up and raises his chin, doing a surprisingly good impression of a dominant. It’s quite adorable. “We’re eating Oreos. Now.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“At the place downtown?”

“Oh, no no no. Go slow, young grasshopper. You have to learn to appreciate the simplicity of the Oreo first. Then, you can earn the Oreo themed desserts.”

Dean’s never been so sure of anything in his life. 

He’s in love with Castiel Novak. So fucking in love with him. 

“Lead the way.” 

Castiel takes Dean’s hand, pulling him through the restaurant like a man on a mission. Which Dean supposes he is. A mission of vital importance. 

“Do we need to pay the bill?” Castiel asks, stumbling when he sees the hostess podium. 

“Nope. They have my information.” 

That’s apparently all Castiel needs before he’s dragging Dean along again. When they get outside, Benny puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder and looks at him slightly incredulously. “Where exactly are we going, sir?”

“Wherever there are Oreos.”

“Wherever - what?” Benny looks over at Charlie, then back at Dean. “Oreos?”

“Yes. Oreos.” Dean smiles at Castiel, the expression widening to a grin when the boy blushes under his attention. His act as the dominant is quickly dissolving into regular, flustered Castiel. “They’re Castiel’s favorite.”

Charlie is the first to smile, Benny following immediately after. They look at Castiel with the same fondness that Dean feels before Benny nods once and gestures toward the vehicle. “Let’s go find us some Oreos, then.”

  


\---- 

  


When Dean goes for his fifth Oreo, Castiel reaches over and takes it. “You’ll make yourself sick!” he says with a teasing laugh, hearing his mom’s voice in his mind saying the same thing. It’s the first time in… possibly ever that Castiel doesn’t ache from sadness at the thought of her. In fact, he’s filled instead with a warm sensation in his chest. 

She would have liked Dean. Loved him, even. Especially his evident appreciation for her and Castiel’s favorite dessert. 

“If I get sick, it’ll be worth it,” Dean declares as he wrestles the Oreo from Castiel with a grin. He plops it inside the large to-go coffee cup they took from the gas station to use as their milk cup, watching the cookie bob once, twice, then sink. When he looks over the rim of the cup at Castiel, Castiel’s heart nearly stops. It’s such a pure, simple moment. The two of them enjoying Oreos in the back of the car while Benny drives them to the club and Charlie follows in an SUV. 

It’s exactly what Castiel needed to relax before they reach their destination. A mystery destination that Dean won’t even give him a clue about. All he knows is it’s not the club. Not yet. Apparently, they have to do something first. 

Dean scoops the cookie out of the cup with a spoon. Castiel takes a chance, leaning forward and wrapping his lips around it before Dean can bring the utensil up to his own mouth. Their eyes lock, and Dean’s breath hitches as Castiel seductively - at least, what he hopes is seductive, he’s a damn virgin after all - takes the Oreo into his mouth and licks the spoon clean. 

With very controlled movements, Dean sets the cup of milk in the drink holder and turns back to Castiel. Then he lunges. He has Castiel pressed up against the door, their lips crashing together, in three seconds flat. Castiel grunts, his muscles tensing for a moment, but then he melts like butter and gives Dean complete control. 

“That’s it,” Dean coos against his mouth. “Good boy.” 

The sound of a throat getting cleared interrupts them. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face away, knowing he’s blushing ridiculously hard as he hears Benny inform Dean, “We’re here, sir.”

“Good.” Dean sits back, looking perfectly fine. He’s not breathless or flushed, and he’s definitely not flustered. Castiel, on the other end, feels completely wrecked. The feeling only gets worse when Dean’s eyes settle on him, intense with something that burns Castiel from the inside out. “Ready?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of date night - Dean learns some things about Cas, & Cas learns some things about himself (;

Dean likes to torture himself. Clearly. That can be the only explanation for why he’s standing here in the middle of the city’s best fetish wear shop that he rented out for the next two hours, watching his fiancé and possible submissive try on outfits for him. God, is he so fucking beautiful though with his bright pink cheeks and tucked chin, looking up at Dean through his eyelashes whenever he wants to see if Dean approves or not. 

Dean’s been going easy on him, too. 

They’ve already figured out Castiel doesn’t like rubber, and Dean’s not a huge fan of seeing him in it anyway. Castiel was okay with leather, however. He didn’t mind the leather pants Dean put him in, and he definitely didn’t mind the itty-bitty leather shorts if his squirming was any indication. His favorite, however, seems to be the slim-fit leather pants he’s wearing now as he stands in front of Dean and admits in a shaky voice, “These are nice.”

“Yes,” Dean nearly growls. “Yes, they are.”

“So… these and - and some sort of shirt?”

_Oh, how adorable. _

“You think I’ll bring you to a place like this and let you get away with only trying those on?” Dean tsks, loving the way Castiel stares at him with a mixture of fear and lust in his eyes. “Would you like to come with me again as I pick them out, or would you like to be surprised this time?”

Probably remembering how embarrassed he had been just having to watch Dean pick out rubber and leather pants and shorts for him, Castiel makes the decision to stay where he is. It’s probably for the best. Dean doesn’t restrain himself this time around the shop, grabbing items that he’d fucking die to see Castiel in. He has a feeling Castiel will put his foot down at some point, but that’s part of it. Dean wants to make sure his boy is comfortable enough to say no. 

Dean starts him off slow again, hiding his grin as he hands Castiel the assless chaps. Castiel’s eyes go impossibly wide at them, and Dean has to fight himself not to tease the boy.

It takes Castiel an extra second or two before coming back out of the dressing room. He doesn’t even manage to look at Dean through his lashes, staring directly at the floor instead. 

“Turn around,” Dean orders, curious if Castiel will actually obey. 

He does. The boy hesitates, but he does. 

“Your ass is fucking perfect.” Castiel’s muscles tighten at the compliment, which makes his ass cheeks firm up, a little dimple showing in each one. Dean bets that’s what his ass will look like when he’s getting spanked or paddled. He’ll probably tense up like that in anticipation, trying to predict each strike as Dean puts different stretches of time between each one, making each hit impossible to prepare for. 

“C-can I… change now?” Castiel whispers, head hanging as he continues to stand with his ass facing Dean. 

“Of course.” Dean bites back a smirk when Castiel turns around again. He puts his hand out and waits for Castiel to take the next item. Castiel stares at it for a very long time. “Go on.”

Castiel’s fingers slowly wrap around the black lace boxer-briefs. He stares down at them in his hands, nervous and aroused. 

“They come in multiple colors if you don’t want black.”

“What colors?” 

“Red. White. Baby blue. A nice, soft, pretty pink.” Dean chuckles. “Same pink as your pretty cheeks right now.”

The comment makes Castiel squirm in place, his hand tightening on the lace briefs. “Which color do you like best?”

Dean sees what’s happening here. Castiel likes this, and he doesn’t want to admit it. He wants Dean to take the pressure off by controlling the situation again. He wants to escape the decisions just like at dinner. 

Dean won’t always let that slide, but he will for tonight. “I think you’d look beautiful in all of them. Should we have you try each on for me?”

“If you’d - if you’d like.”

“I think I’d like that very much. You go and put those on for me. I’ll get the others.”

Dean goes back to grab the briefs in each color. Then he pauses next to another rack. He had planned on surprising Castiel with the lace briefs, then following them up with some jockstraps, one of them unzipping in the front. He had figured that was when Castiel would finally say enough. 

Seeing his response to the lace briefs, Dean’s wondering if maybe Castiel could be pushed just a bit further. 

He grabs a few more options, deciding to play it by ear. He won’t let anyone at the club see Castiel in something like that but to dress him up in lingerie for his own viewing? Yeah. Yeah, that’s happening. Not today, but soon. 

Dean puts the few new items he found on the counter to be bought later before making his way over to Castiel’s dressing room with the briefs. He finds Castiel already standing out in the open, staring down at himself like he’s mesmerized by the black lace surrounding him. His cock is half-hard and thickening by the second. 

“Do you like them?” Dean asks, knowing the answer already. 

“They’re...”

“They’re?”

Castiel shifts his weight, fingers fiddling with the waistband of his briefs. “Nice.”

“Just nice?” Dean makes a displeased noise in his throat. “From here, they look fucking gorgeous.”

“Really?” Castiel squeaks, face and chest turning red. 

“Absolutely.” Dean looks straight at Castiel’s cock wrapped in the delicate lace. You can see the little flashes of pale skin beneath the fabric. _Gorgeous_. “Try these.”

Castiel does as told, coming back out a moment later in the powder blue lace briefs. They’re pretty on him, but Dean wants to see his eyes. 

“Look at me, Castiel.” Castiel just squirms, peeking at him through his lashes without lifting his chin. That won’t do. Not at all. “Look at me. _Now_.”

There’s a split-second moment when Dean worries he went too far. The concern is shattered when Castiel moans, his cock growing hard enough for it to push against the thin lace, trying to contain it. The purply-red head peeks out just above his waistband. Dean bets if he got closer he would find precum in the slit. 

When his gaze lifts, he sees that his boy obeyed him. He’s looking straight at Dean despite the fact that he’s very clearly humiliated. 

“Good boy.” Castiel shivers, goosebumps erupting on his pretty skin. “Those make your eyes very blue, Castiel. You’re beautiful.” 

Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip for half a second before whispering, “Thank you...”

“These ones next.”

“Okay.”

Dean checks his watch, smiling when he sees the time. It’s late enough to go to the club now. Scenes should be up and running. 

When Castiel comes out of the changing room this time, Dean groans. He’s wrapped in red lace this time. It brings out his blush, as well as his pretty pink lips. It looks fucking gorgeous against his flawless pale skin too. 

“I think we found our winner,” Dean announces, surprised by how choked his voice sounds. 

“Really?” Castiel’s fingers brush along the lace covering his cock before he shivers and quickly pulls his hand away. “I - I look okay?”

“You look - God, Cas, you look fucking perfect.” 

Dean watches the boy, noticing a shift in him. He keeps looking off to the side, something clearly on his mind. Before Dean can ask what’s wrong, Castiel gets brave enough to address it himself. “Did I not look okay in the other ones?”

“Of course not. You looked amazing in all of them. But this is the one I want you wearing tonight.” When Castiel relaxes, clearly happy with this, Dean chuckles. “Should we buy all of them so you can wear them for me some other time? Hmmm?”

“Yeah.” Castiel ducks his head. “If - if you’d like that...”

“I would. I’m buying you a few other surprises too.”

Castiel looks up at him with wide eyes. “Like what?”

“Well, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” 

“I guess. Yeah.” Castiel turns on his heel but freezes. “Did - did you say I’m wearing these _tonight_?”

“Of course. At the club.”

Castiel’s blush spreads down his neck and across his shoulders. Dean didn’t even know that was possible. He likes it, though. He likes that he can see the boy blush even from behind. “They’re a bit… revealing.”

“Yes. Don’t worry, boy. You’ll be covered much more than the other subs.” 

“But… but we’re gonna have to walk out of here and-”

“I have that covered. You just relax, now. Go on. There’s a bag in the changing room. Fold your clothes you wore coming in here and put them in the bag. Then come out here in your pretty panties for me.”

Surprisingly, Castiel doesn’t even hesitate. He just ducks back into the little room and does as told. He meets Dean at the register just as Dean is starting to pay for the other items he picked out. Thankfully the cashier had already bagged them, keeping the surprise in place. 

“Did you want these?” Castiel asks softly, handing Dean the different colored lace briefs. 

“Yes. Thank you.” Dean takes the items from him with a smile. He kisses Castiel on the forehead, trying to comfort him. The boy is clearly freaked out by the cashier that’s studying him. Dean’s not sure if he’ll last at the club, but he wants to see Castiel try. He’ll just be proud of him for trying. “Benny is by the door. Go to him.”

“But-”

“Go, Castiel,” Dean orders, eyes narrowing. “Unless you’d like to say red?”

Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip before shaking his head. But he doesn’t leave, either. He gives the cashier a quick glance before mumbling to Dean, “Can I buy some of those gloves?”

Dean looks at the gloves Castiel is pointing too. They’re black leather, long enough to go to his elbow. They wouldn’t look terrible with his pretty red briefs, but Dean doesn’t see them as necessary. He also never saw Castiel as the kind of boy who wanted to wear gloves like that. Then again, everyone is full of surprises. “Of course. I’ll buy them. You go see Benny.” 

The relief on Castiel’s face is interesting, but Dean dismisses it. He just watches Castiel walk away, appreciating the view of his lace covered ass, before looking back at the cashier. “Scan an extra pair of those lace briefs for me. He’s wearing a pair. And the gloves too, I suppose.”

“Yes. Yes, he is.” The male cashier licks his lips, openly appreciating Dean’s boy. “You have a very good boy there, Mr. Winchester.”

“Yes.” Dean looks over at Benny and Castiel. He grins. His boy is covered now, wearing the beige trench coat Dean had brought along for him, but it doesn’t make him look any less attractive. Not when Dean knows he’s dressed beneath it the way he is. Dressed in pretty lace panties just for Dean. Pretty lace panties he’s willing to wear to a public club just for Dean. “He’s perfect.”

\----

Castiel tries taking everything in at once, only to find himself dizzy and overwhelmed. There's so much happening. Music. Lights. People moving around. Talking. A waiter -wait… no, surely that’s not a waiter - _someone _is crawling around naked with a metal serving tray resting on his back, full of drinks that are dangerously close to spilling, his mouth gagged, two strange things on his nipples that are attached by a chain that dangles, his cock heavy and leaking between his thighs. 

It’s nothing like he imagined. He expected all leather and whips and chains and screaming and… he doesn’t even know. Pain, he guesses. Lots of pain. 

Besides one couple off in the far corner, that’s not the case. 

It’s… strange, yes, but also pleasure. Lots of pleasure. 

Everywhere.

So. Much. Pleasure. 

Castiel is hard within seconds, thankful he has his trench coat on to hide it. Maybe Dean will let him keep it on. Maybe the fun is just knowing the panties are on beneath it. Dean had explained that there’s a dress code, though, and the trench coat definitely doesn’t fall under it. Tonight, the club is requiring rubber, leather, or lace. That’s why Dean had bought a new outfit at the shop too; leather pants, a tight black cotton shirt, and a leather motorcycle jacket. He looks like one of the bad boys that smokes under the bleachers at school. Incredibly fucking hot. 

They quickly get to a desk off to the side and Dean smiles at the woman working behind it in an elegant black dress. 

“Mr. Winchester. You brought a guest!” The surprise in her voice is evident. Castiel wonders if this is the first time Dean’s done this. He said he just hooks up, never does anything permanent, but surely he could have brought the men he meets on his app here with him. Or is that not how this works?

“Sure did. Isn’t he beautiful?” Castiel blushes at Dean’s words, looking off to the side as his heart begins to race. “I already sent in his form for the background check. Thomas cleared him. Castiel.”

“Ah, yes, here he is. Does he have a collar or would he like a club collar?”

“I have it handled. Can I check our coats?”

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut. Shit. _Shit, shit, shit. _

He can say red. Dean said so, and Castiel believes him. He believes that Dean would stop right now. Let him put different clothes on, or leave the club altogether if that’s what he wanted. It’s not what Castiel wants, though. He’s ashamed of himself. He feels dirty and… wrong. Yet, he’s never been this hard in his life, and the only thing touching his cock is fucking lace. 

Surely, that means he should at least try this. 

“Castiel?” Castiel lifts his chin, looking at Dean. Dean’s smiling warmly at him, but his eyes hold a devilish need in them that sends a shudder through Castiel. “Your coat.”

“Y-yeah.” Castiel begins to loosen the knot on his coat’s belt, the only thing keeping it closed. He blushes as he thinks of the way Benny had looked at him when helping him put it on. The man hadn’t hidden how turned on he was by Castiel in the red lace briefs. Castiel wonders if that’s how everyone will look at him here. Staring at him like a piece of meat. 

Fuck. That’d be… embarrassing. 

That’d be _hot_. 

Castiel takes a slow, deep breath and removes the coat. He hands it to Dean and immediately looks down at the ground. Dean’s dark chuckle is full of amusement and arousal. It makes Castiel want to drop to his knees on the spot, something Gabriel had mentioned submissives do a lot when they talked last. Gabriel had given him a lot of information about stuff like that. A little bit too much… Castiel had to tell him to stop after a while. Some things he just didn’t need to learn from his brother. 

Dean’s hand rests on the small of Castiel’s back, calloused fingers brushing against his sensitive skin. Castiel can’t help but gasp at the simple touch. It feels like everything is heightened, his senses on overload. He knows people are looking at him in his lace briefs. He can feel the eyes on him. Yet, all Castiel cares about is Dean’s bright green eyes that are fixed on him with an intensity that makes Castiel feel like the most important thing in the world. 

“I’d like to put this collar on you, Castiel. Just for tonight. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t mean you’re my sub, not if you don’t want it to, but it’ll keep other doms away from you. They’ll respect the collar. They’ll respect you belonging to a fellow dom. It keeps you safe from being harrassed.” Dean brushes his fingertips along Castiel’s cheek. “Can I do that, Castiel? Will you let me collar you?”

Not trusting his voice, Castiel nods. He watches with heavy-lidded eyes as Dean raises a slim leather collar up to his neck and begins to secure it. There’s a silver ring at the front, almost like a dog’s collar would have for a leash. The thought of Dean leading him around on a leash makes Castiel flush. 

“You like that?” Dean coos as he steps back and takes Castiel’s expression in. “You like being collared?”

Castiel nods again, teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. 

“Good. I like you in it.” Something dark flashes in Dean’s eyes as he stares at the strip of leather. “Maybe one day you’ll give me the privilege of putting it on you again. Maybe even a different one. A permanent one.”

“I - yes. Maybe?” Castiel shuffles. “Would _you _like that?”

Dean just smirks. “We’ll talk about it another time. Would you like to explore?”

That’s an easy one. 

“Yes, please!” 

If his enthusiasm amuses Dean, the man doesn’t show it. He just smiles at him fondly and begins guiding him through the club. It’s extremely hard to look anywhere other than the floor but Castiel really wants to see what’s going on. He takes a chance, lifting his chin and looking off to his left at a couple in a stall that are doing… something. One of them is naked and strapped to a big cross - a lot like the one Dean has in his playroom, though his is made of triangles kissing instead of two long planks of wood crossing over each other. The other is half-dressed and holding a whip. When the naked one gets hit for the first time, Castiel jumps and looks away. His eyes meet a man’s from across the room. A man who is very openly staring at him. 

Castiel presses closer to Dean, accidentally drawing his attention. 

“What is it?” Dean asks in concern, his eyebrows pulling in. 

“Nothing.” Castiel peeks at the guy again. He blushes when he sees the man is still watching him, his eyes skating away. 

Dean’s laugh is deep. Dark. “Ahh. I see.”

Before Castiel can think of something to do or say, he realizes what’s happening. Dean is leading him toward the man. Straight to him. Castiel feels like his legs are going to give out any moment but he keeps putting one foot in front of the other anyway. Dean’s here. Dean will never let anything happen to him. Never. 

Castiel focuses on Dean’s hand pressed against the small of his back, letting it make him feel calm and centered. His shaking has nearly stopped when they reach the man. 

“Alistair.” Dean nods at the man. “Pleasure, as always.”

“Pleasure _indeed_.” The man - well, _Alistair_\- leans forward as if he’s trying to get a better look at Castiel. “This one is beautiful, Dean.”

“Thank you.” Dean smiles at Castiel, looking proud. It makes Castiel puff up. He’s not doing anything but standing in place but he still feels incredibly accomplished. “Castiel, this is my good friend Alistair. He was a mentor of mine.”

“Taught this one everything he knows.” Alistair leans back, looking smug. “Every time he makes you come just by hurting you, you can thank me.”

Dean tenses beside Castiel. “He’s not - that’s not what we are.”

This shocks Alistair. Like, _completely _shocks him. “I’m sorry? Clearly, I didn’t hear you correctly.”

“He’s not my sub.” Dean clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “He’s not a sub. Anyone’s sub. He’s just curious.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps you aren’t the best one to take in a curious little thing like him. Isn’t he a bit too tame for you, Dean?”

Now Dean doesn’t look uncomfortable. He looks pissed. “He’s perfect for me. Thank you, Alistair.”

Alistair chuckles. “Aright. Well, I have a boy of my own here tonight if you’d like to watch a real scene. He’s a crier, and his favorite is the bull-whip.”

There’s something that passes through Dean. A desire. A need. Then he glances down at Castiel and his face smoothes out into boredom. “Perhaps I’ll stop by. We’ll see where the night takes us.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Alistair pats him on the shoulder, then winks at Castiel. “Have fun tonight, little red. Don’t let the big bad wolf scare you away.”

Castiel sinks further into Dean, holding his breath. He doesn’t like that man. 

No. That’s incorrect. He doesn’t like the man that Alistair made _Dean _out to be. 

“What did he mean?” Castiel asks quietly, unable to look Dean in the eye. 

“When he said…?”

“Me… being too tame for you.”

There’s a silence that stretches too long. Castiel looks up at him and shivers. Dean’s glaring off at something, or someone, across the club. His jaw is locked. Teeth clenched. “Dean?”

“You’re perfect the way you are, Castiel.”

“But-”

“Castiel.” Dean snaps his eyes down to look at him. There’s no anger in his eyes, though. At least not towards Castiel. He has that same look he had in the hallway on Castiel’s first day, when he had asked Castiel if someone had hurt him. Murderous. “That man taught me how to use toys on a submissive. That’s it. He doesn’t know me or what I want. What I need. Okay?”

Castiel slowly nods. “Okay.”

“Good.” Dean tucks a finger beneath Castiel’s chin and raises it. Then he leans down and softly kisses him. For just a moment, the world slips away. 

That’s surely the reason why Castiel asks a question that, two seconds after leaving his lips, makes him wish he could die on the spot. “Can people really come just from being hurt?”

Dean’s smile is evil in this dangerous, intoxicating way that makes Castiel’s head spin. “Yes, Castiel. They most certainly can.”

“Do you think I’d be able to?”

_God, why won’t he stop fucking talking? _Castiel wishes he was like the naked waiter boy on his knees right now. At least he’s gagged. 

“Maybe one day we’ll see, Castiel.” Dean tugs ever so gently on the ring of Castiel’s collar, chuckling under his breath. “Let’s explore some more. That was a bad start to the night.”

As they walk, Castiel watches everyone around him. Some of them are watching him back, not at all shy about looking at his cock through his lace briefs, but most are watching Dean. A lot are, in fact. They have to stop every minute or so for Dean to shake hands or catch up for a moment. Everyone knows him. Likes him. Charlie was right. Dean’s popular here. Very much so. 

In fact, too popular. Castiel quickly stops smiling when he realizes many of the people coming up to Dean are submissives. Available submissives, not wearing any collars. Ones that give Castiel a quick dirty look before pressing against Dean.

They all call him _sir_. 

Castiel doesn’t like it at all. 

“Dean,” Castiel practically growls when a twink that Castiel thinks is much prettier than himself starts practically grinding on the front of his future husband. 

Dean looks down at him with an expression that’s impossible to read. He parts his lips, about to say something, when the pretty twink stares at Castiel like Castiel said something absolutely appalling. “How dare you speak to Mr. Winchester like that?” 

A very uncharacteristic growl rips past Castiel’s lips. “Go. Away.” 

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the submissive says, looking up at Dean like Castiel is an ignorant child the boy is trying to apologize for. “I have no idea what he’s thinking.”

Another growl and then Castiel is launching himself toward the pretty twink. Dean is laughing as he grabs Castiel around his waist and pulls him back. He holds Castiel to his chest and tells the other boy through continued laughter, “You should probably leave before I let my boy loose on you.”

The submissive drops his jaw in shock before scrambling away, but Castiel is still and calm now. 

_My boy._

Dean called Castiel that. 

_Dean’s_ _boy_. 

He’s never liked two words more in his entire life. 

“God, you’re cute,” Dean whispers in his ear, turning him around so they’re looking at each other. He smiles proudly down at Castiel. 

“Am I really your boy?” Castiel asks in a rush of air. He can’t help it. The two words are echoing around in his mind, driving him absolutely insane. He needs to know.

Dean’s smile softens. “Of course you are.”

“Oh.” Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip and looks around the room. “He’d be a better one.”

“Who?”

“Whoever that boy was.”

Dean’s eyebrows pull in for a few seconds, showing his confusion. “Connor? No. God no. I’d never - no.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, he’s too well behaved. No fun at all. Two, he looks for relationships, which I don’t do. Or, well, _didn’t _do.” Dean drags his thumb along Castiel’s bottom lip. “And three, he’s not you.”

“He’s prettier,” Castiel whispers. “And - and he’d know how to please you.”

Something breaks in Dean’s expression. He pulls Castiel close, resting his forehead against his. Castiel swears their entire world narrows down to just the two of them. He wants to live there forever. 

“Cas, you please me all the damn time. Just waking up and seeing your face in the morning pleases me. You showed me oreos - oreos, Cas. I have been living a cold, lonely life without oreos. You’re a natural submissive, and I know if you decide to do this with me, you’ll be absolutely amazing. You’re much prettier than him, the fact that you think otherwise is almost laughable. Do you not see everyone looking at you in here? Watching your pretty ass in that lace? Admiring the way your cock is cradled by it? I’ve had to restrain myself dozens of times already.” Dean laughs softly, his head shaking back and forth. “And I can guarantee you it’d take five minutes for me to be disappointed with Connor. Less, to be honest. In fact, just thinking about that… thinking about having him, or anyone else, in my playroom - anyone besides you - makes me sick.”

“R-really?”

“Really.” 

“Oh.” Castiel smiles slowly. When it finishes growing, it’s a full-blown grin, wide enough to make his cheeks ache. “Okay.”

Dean’s smile matches his. “Are you ready to come see my world now?” 

“Do I have to call you sir?”

“No.” Dean pulls away, taking Castiel’s hand in his and squeezing gently. “Whenever you call me that, I want you to _want _to call me it. Otherwise it means nothing to me. It’s worthless. I want to _earn _it. That’s what feels so damn good about it. Don’t force it, okay?” 

With a particularly dangerous heart skip, Castiel nods. “Then show me your world, Dean.” 

Dean’s grin turns slightly wicked. “My pleasure, Cas.”

  


\---- 

  


The night had started off terribly. Dean should have known better than to bring Castiel towards Alistair. He had wanted to show his prize off. Show Alistair that he found this beautiful little thing that’s more beautiful, more perfect, than anyone Dean’s ever laid eyes on. He should have known that’s not what Alistair would see. 

Alistair just saw pale skin that would look pretty painted red and purple. Alistair just saw a cute twink that’d die taking a big cock. Alistair just saw Dean, a mild-sadist who refuses to admit that maybe he’s a bit more of a sadist than that, standing with a sub that must be a masochist. Alistair saw what Dean would have seen a week ago. 

At least the night has been uphill from there. Alistair’s comments had stirred some more curiosity in Castiel, which was a relief. Then Connor had come up and tried propositioning Dean into taking him into one of the stalls for a scene, and Castiel had fucking attacked him. It was shocking and amusing. Dean knew his boy had a bite to him, he and Castiel have gone at it plenty of times for him to learn that, but it still had amazed him. 

Dean finds himself looking at Castiel now, thinking about the moment with Connor as he does so. He looks so innocent now, standing still as he watches a scene with his head tilted to the side. His pale, beautiful skin is flawless, the marks on his inner thighs now healed completely. He must not cut there as often as his wrists because there aren’t any scars - _oh_. 

_Oh, fuck. Of course._

Dean looks down at Castiel’s hands, wrapped in leather that crawls up to his elbow. The marks on his arms. Castiel hadn’t wanted others to see them. He had wanted to hide his scars. Dean feels terrible for not thinking of it. 

He also feels so unbelievably proud of Castiel for being brave enough to ask for the gloves. Now he just has to find a way to one day make him brave enough not to hide the scars at all. Hopefully, over time, Castiel will see that the people here - and the people at their house - won’t judge him. 

The boy deserves a reward. Later, though. Right now, he’s quite distracted. 

Castiel’s attention is caught by a young man whose dominant just finished binding him in an intricate shibari pattern. The red rope winds around the boy’s groin on each side of his hard cock and tight balls, pushing his ass cheeks up where the rope rests beneath each one. A large knot is on each of the submissive’s hips, rope coming from each of them up and behind the man’s back to attach to the sturdy metal hoop hanging from the ceiling. More rope is wrapped around the top of his abdomen, then the top of his pecs, squeezing them so his nipples are pushed forward. Rope is knotted on each ankle, his legs up and back as he kneels with his thighs parted wide on a large black leather cube beneath him. The rope from his ankles goes upward, wrapping around his wrists, which are crossed over each other at the small of his back. Finally, there’s rope around his neck, looped through the rope against his chest, making a ‘V’ shape along his collarbone. 

A thick line of rope, mostly made out of the ends of each rope that have been wound around his body, is running from the back of his head to his ankles, all attached to that same metal hoop from the ceiling. It’s sturdy. Safe. Dean would take more time appreciating the craftsmanship if he wasn’t so interested in Castiel’s reaction instead. 

The boy is almost panting, standing there with flushed cheeks as he gnaws on his bottom lip. His pupils are blown as his eyes track the dominant’s every movement. When the dominant clamps the submissive’s nipples, Castiel gasps softly. Dean notices the way his hand touches his hard cock through his briefs before Castiel quickly catches himself and pulls it away. 

“What are you thinking?” Dean asks quietly, taking a step behind Castiel so he can place his lips right against the shell of Castiel’s ear. 

Castiel shivers, sinking back against him. “It looks… hot. But - but uncomfortable.”

“It’s not,” Dean assures him. “It’s dangerous to be. The dominant will have made sure that nothing is being pinched or pulled. That nothing is tingling or going numb. And the submissive will immediately safeword if any of those things changes.”

“So, it’s not a pain thing?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Much more for pleasure.” Dean starts trailing his fingertips along Castiel’s skin, making sure to only touch the places where the submissive has rope. “It feels like you’re being held all over. Secured. Protected. But also trapped. Helpless. At your dominant’s complete mercy. Watch.”

Castiel turns his head, probably about to ask what he should be watching for, but Dean grabs his chin and directs him forward. It only takes a few more seconds of the dominant gently tugging and checking on the rope, whispering things to the submissive that none of them can hear. Then the black box is being kicked out from under him, and the boy is dangling in the air. 

The gasp Castiel lets out is much louder this time, and the groan that follows it does wild things to Dean. 

After letting his submissive swing in the air for a few more seconds, smiling at his audience, the dominant grabs a handful of the rope line that’s parallel to the submissive’s back. He uses it as a handle, yanking the submissive back. As the submissive begins to swing much further and faster than before, the dominant walks around him and kneels. Dean grins when he sees the toy in the man’s hand. 

The fleshlight is placed at the height of the submissive’s cock. When the bound man sees what’s waiting for him, he starts panting. He bucks in his rope, trying desperately to get his cock pointed in the correct direction. When he misses entering the fleshlight by just an inch or two, the crowd mocks him with dramatic “awwws” before many of the dominants start to laugh sadistically. Many of the submissives look at their dangling friend in a mixture of pity and fear, knowing that could easily be them. 

After two more tries, the submissive starts to cry in frustration. 

Castiel starts to lurch forward, but Dean wraps his arm around him, pressing his hand to Castiel’s chest to keep him firmly in place. “He’s okay.”

“He’s crying!”

“But he has a safeword, baby. He’s okay. I promise you.”

Before Castiel can argue, there’s a relieved groan that travels through the air. Both men turn to see that the submissive finally met his mark. His dominant is chuckling softly, using one hand to hold the fleshlight and the other to hold the submissive in place by the rope on his chest, keeping him from drifting away again. It must be a reward for him successfully getting inside the fleshlight. His dominant holds him steady while the submissive bucks desperately into the fleshlight. 

Dean likes this game. 

He wonders what he would change if he played it with Castiel. He’d probably drag it out longer. Let Castiel fuck it for a few thrusts before sending him off, making him play all over again. 

_Mmmm. Yeah. That’d be fun. _

When the submissive squeaks, “Please, sir, gonna!” the fleshlight is removed, the crowd holding their breath as the submissive stares down at his cock, breathing deeply as he works to keep himself from coming without permission. 

The submissive succeeds at staying dry. 

Then he’s crying again. 

_Yeah. Dean’s 100% playing this game with Castiel if he gets a chance. He bets his boy would look beautiful, all trussed up in pretty red rope, maybe his pretty matching lace panties too, ripped open in the front by Dean’s teeth, of course, so Castiel’s needy cock can hit its target. _

Castiel is grinding back against Dean’s erection, his own boner tenting the front of his pants as he does so. It makes Dean grin. “You like watchin’ that?” Castiel moans, nodding rapidly. “I was just thinkin’ bout how fun it’d be to play this little game with you.”

His boy throws his head back on his shoulder and whines, his hand going to his lace covered cock. Dean grabs it just before it reaches its destination. Castiel makes a confused little sound before looking up at him in betrayal.

“I didn’t say you could touch.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” Castiel growls back. 

There’s that fire again. God, this boy is fucking addicting. 

“Well, now I say.”

“You’re not my dom.”

“Oh, really?” Dean gives him a signature dom brow, chuckling when it makes Castiel melt against him. “How ‘bout this, then. You touch yourself here, and I won’t touch you when we get home.”

Castile’s eyes go impossibly wide. “You - you’ll touch me?”

“If you behave.”

“I will!” Castiel nods rapidly, grabbing onto the front of Dean’s shirt to make him understand. “I will. I’ll be good. So good for you.”

Dean groans before grabbing Castiel’s face and smashing their lips together. He devours him in a kiss that’s less about kissing and more about staking a claim. Then he pulls away and turns the boy in his arms so he’s watching the scene again. With one arm around Castiel’s chest and the other around his waist, Dean pins him in place and starts grinding against him, his hold so tight Castiel can do nothing but feel it, unable to participate besides a slight wiggle. 

“Is he gonna let him come?” Castiel asks in a breathy, needy voice that makes Dean want to drag him away to the nearest dark corner and fuck him up against the wall. 

Dean can’t help but think Castiel’s not really talking about the submissive at all. He has a feeling Castiel is thinking about his own orgasm and when he’ll get to come tonight. 

“I’m sure he’ll let him soon,” Dean says in a slow drawl, keeping the possible double meaning of the question in mind. “Since he’s being such a good boy.”

Castiel shivers. “Yeah… he’s - he’s bein’ really good.”

“He is.” Dean drags his lips up the curve of Castiel’s throat, loving the way Castiel throws his head back to give him full access. He nips him right below his jaw. It makes Castiel squeak and buck against him. His cock is starting to drench the front of his briefs with precum. “You’re better, though, aren’t you? My good boy.”

“Am I?” Castiel asks, perking up with a desperate need for it to be true. For him to be a good boy. 

“You are. So good for me.”

“Even - even though I don’t call you sir and - and I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Dean nods, littering kisses along every available inch of Castiel’s shoulders and neck. “Even then.”

Castiel’s breaths turn into pants as his eyes focus on the scene in front of him. The submissive is getting close. He’s trembling and sobbing. Begging. 

“Will he fuck him?” Castiel asks in a voice that sounds almost trance-like. 

Dean’s lips curve into a mischievous smile, wondering if this is another double question. Wondering if Castiel even cares if this boy in front of them gets fucked, or if he’s just concerned about when Dean will fuck him instead. 

“No, Castiel. He won’t fuck him. This open area doesn’t allow it. They’d have to be downstairs in one of the public or private rooms. This floor only allows hands, mouths, and toys for penetration.”

“But… how will he come then?”

Dean hums low in his throat, pleased. “What, you think he shouldn’t be able to come without being fucked, baby?”

The full-body shiver that runs through Castiel’s body is quite the clue. Dean groans. That wasn’t a kink he was expecting, but it’s a kink he’ll most definitely play around with if Castiel would like. 

“I - I guess not… I mean… no. No, he can come whenever, right?”

“Well, whenever his dom allows it, yes.” Dean grinds his cock against Castiel’s ass. “Poor thing will have to come all empty.” 

There’s that shiver again. 

Then, “But what about his dom? Doesn’t he… wanna come?”

“He might come. He could jack off. Make his boy suck him off. Or, he might wait until later. This might be all about his sub tonight. He’ll do this scene, give his sub a great scene, take care of him after, and then when he’s free, he’ll deal with himself if he still has a need to.”

“That’s so-” Castiel stops, shaking his head in awe. 

“What?”

“Selfless.”

“Yes.” Dean kisses Castiel’s left cheek, then nuzzles him gently. “A good dom should be. You’ll learn that you have all the power in this, baby. Every time I plan a scene, it will be how to make you feel good. How to tease or spank or fuck you until you float away. I’ll enjoy doing that for _you_. That’s what makes me happy. Sometimes coming isn’t everything. Hell, Cas, there’ll be times you don’t come. It might not be what you need some days.” 

“Makes sense.”

“Do you see how he’s starting to sag in his ropes? The way his head is lulling?” Castiel nods. “He’s starting to float. It’s called subspace. It’s different for everyone. Some experience it for a long time, some only for a few seconds after coming. Some go completely out of it, unaware of everything, while others feel fuzzy but are still aware. This boy looks like he starts entering it before coming. Can you see it? In his eyes? He’s floating away.” 

Castiel fidgets. “Sounds scary.”

“Very, if you’re not with someone you trust fully. But if you find someone you can let go with completely, it’s the most freeing thing you’ll ever feel.” 

“How do you think I’ll be?”

“Can’t say for sure, but I think you’ll be exceptional. I think, if you can trust me enough, I can make you fly so high you forget your name.” 

“Really?”

“Absolutely. After what we did together last night, you were so close already. What did it feel like?”

“Safe,” Castiel whispers, his cheeks burning. “Sleepy.” 

“Good. That’s-” Dean’s cut off by a strangled shout and a round of cheers and clapping from the audience. The submissive’s body is bowed as far as it can with the rope, his head thrown back as he paints the ground with cum. 

Just as the Dungeon Monitor is ushering people away, asking for some privacy for the dominant and his submissive, Dean catches sight of the submissive going completely lax in his bonds. The dominant quickly holds him up against his chest, lips moving as he murmurs what Dean is sure must be praise and reassurances, while someone who must be a friend helps cut the boy free. 

Dean wants that. 

He wants it so damn much. 

And he wants it with Castiel. 

“Dean?”

Dean snaps out of it, looking down at the boy in front of him. Castiel had turned at some point, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and tilting his head back so they can meet each other’s gaze. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“I want that. With you.”

Half-concerned that he’s about to float off into subspace himself, Dean admits, “I was just thinking the same. I’d give anything for that to be us. Not even the scene or being here in public. Just - just _them_. You know I’ve never had that. There’s something between them. You might not be able to see it yet, but you can often tell when a dominant and submissive are in a purely sexual relationship, or if they’re in love, and you can tell with them. The amount of love and trust - it’s… I want that, Cas. With you.”

Castiel nods rapidly. “Yes. Please.”

“Please?” 

“Please. I wanna try. With you.” Castiel looks down at the ground, then up at Dean through his thick lashes. “_Sir_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** Here's a nice, long, smutty chapter to make up for my lack of writing lately <3 Happy Quarantine (she says with sarcasm) - stay healthy out there, folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I've been awful with replying to comments but I'm slowly getting to them (I love every one, they make my day so much brighter whenever I get the chance to read through them <3 Thank you so much!) I can't wait to read the comments from this chapter (;

Castiel's stomach is so topsy turvy he feels like that sub hanging in the air earlier, suspended with no control over his own body. It’s terrifying and exhilarating. He definitely sees the appeal. He was hoping to experience some of it himself. Maybe get a taste tonight. Yet, here they are, Dean dragging him from the club as if the building is on fire. 

“Wait, where are we going?” Benny asks, stopping before them just before reaching the exit of the club. Charlie is nowhere in sight. 

Since they’re in the louder part of the club now, Dean has to slightly shout over the music. “Home!”

“Why?” Benny’s eyes scan the crowd, then fall on Castiel. If he didn’t look so intensely concerned, Castiel would be embarrassed about Benny looking at him in the briefs again, but Benny doesn’t seem to be focused on him at all. Not in that way at least. He’s looking at Castiel as if he’s searching for injuries. Then he steps forward and asks Dean in a growly, threatening voice, “Did someone touch him?”

In that moment, looking at the two best friends, Castiel is suddenly hit with the overwhelming realization that both would go murder whoever touched him if that was what happened. It should frighten him. Instead, it makes him feel fuzzy. 

As Dean and Benny start talking with their faces close together, Charlie comes up to Castiel. She has his and Dean’s coat. He blushes, realizing that he was about to let Dean pull him out into the street wearing nothing but lace briefs. 

After Charlie helps him into his coat and Dean’s shrugged his jacket back on, Dean takes his hand again and pulls him from the club. There’s a clear desire for them to hurry. To rush. Castiel doesn’t understand _why_, though. He told Dean he wanted to be together. He wants to try this whole bdsm thing. Yet, here they are… _leaving _the bdsm club. Did Dean change his mind? Does he not want to start tonight? Or ever? What did Castiel do wrong? Was he too horny watching that submissive? Was it the thing with Alistair? Did Dean realize Castiel isn’t enough? Did Castiel-

“Stop,” Dean says quietly, pulling Castiel out of his head spin. He looks around to see that they’re now outside. The silence of the night air is deafening compared to the inside of the club. Compared to Castiel’s thoughts. “Stop, Castiel. Breathe. Relax. Stop.” 

Castiel blinks hard before looking up to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s not true.” Dean cups his cheek, dragging his thumb along Castiel’s bottom lip. “Your mind is running a million miles an hour right now. I can see it. It’s all over your body.”

“I’m not-”

“No lying, Castiel. First rule. Biggest fucking rule, if this will ever work. _Never lie_.”

Castiel swallows his words, which in fact were going to be a lie, and nods meekly. 

“Good boy.” Dean leans their foreheads against each other, both hands now coming up to frame Castiel’s entire face. He’s once again overwhelmed with that feeling that the entire world has dropped away. All that’s left is this. Right here. Dean Winchester’s freckled nose against his, green eyes bright and loving, the scent of leather and cigars filling Castiel’s senses. 

“We’ll go home now. I’ll bring you to our wing. I’ll walk you to the playroom. Strip you. Have you kneel. Explain everything I plan to do to you. Then do them.”

“_Oh_,” Castiel says on a shuddery breath. 

“So, turn that mind of yours off. You know exactly what’s going to happen up until I have you kneel, and then I’ll be explaining everything all over again. There’s nothing for you to predict. To worry about. To overanalyze.”

Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip for a second. “It’s - that’s easier said than done.”

“What’s your biggest concern, Cas?”

“I dunno. Why are we leaving?” Castiel’s eyes dart off to the side, looking at the club. “You don’t want to do it here?”

“God no. Our first time? Absolutely not. I want you naked and kneeling in _my _playroom. Not someone else’s.” 

“Oh.” Castiel closes his eyes, feeling himself blush. “I thought I did something wrong.”

“No, baby. When you do something wrong, you’ll know. I’ll correct you. Or punish you - if it’s a rule that was already established.” 

Castiel nods. When he catches a glimpse of Benny standing just a few feet to their right, watching them very closely, he slumps. He feels like an idiot. An overdramatic, anxious, idiot. 

At least he has the damn trench coat on again. 

“Are you ready to go home?” Dean asks after a moment. 

“Yes,” Castiel whispers, unsure when Dean’s house became _home_. But it did, at some point, because when Dean said home, that’s immediately where Castiel’s mind went. To their house. To their wing. To their bedroom. 

Home. 

And he supposes Dean’s right. Home is the perfect place for their first time to be. 

  


\---- 

The moment they step into the playroom, Dean feels it. That familiar peace. That breath of fresh air. That sense of belonging. It’s always the same, just like the very first time when he stood up on his birthday and walked onto that stage at the club Benny brought him to. He had spent 18 years trying to be the son his father wanted him to be, and Dean believes he’s become that man well. Dean’s good at what he does. Skilled. Motivated. Ruthless. Feared. But this - _this right here_ \- is who Dean is beneath it all. 

He can’t fucking wait to be it with Castiel by his side. Or, ideally, naked and writhing beneath him. 

Castiel is standing just inside the doorway, eyes scanning every available inch of the room. He’s trembling, but it’s slight. Most likely out of anticipation, not fear. Dean will keep an eye on it, though. Just in case.

After closing the playroom door softly, Dean steps up behind Castiel. He rests a hand on the boy’s shoulder, smirking when it makes him shudder. 

“Let’s get you out of this coat. I’d like to see my boy in his pretty panties,” Dean murmurs as he slowly, teasingly, drags Castiel’s trench coach off of him. 

Once the boy is naked besides a very thin area of see-through lace, Dean presses his front to Castiel’s back and places his lips at his ear. “Safewords. We reviewed them in the car. Tell me them.”

“Green is good, keep going. Yellow is slow down and talk, or - or whatever is happening is making me nervous.” Castiel gulps, the sound audible in the silence of the room. “Red is stop everything right away.” 

“Good boy.” Castiel shivers under the praise. He goes completely still though when Dean’s left hand begins to tug at his own left hand’s leather glove. His lips part, his chest filling with air as he prepares to say something, but Dean cuts him off. “You don’t need these.”

“Dean-”

“I’ve seen them, baby. There’s no reason to hide.” Castiel goes perfectly still, his breath catching. He stays tense as Dean removes both gloves. Dean hates it. The look of distress on his boy’s face won’t do at all. He needs to rectify it. Immediately. 

Dean walks around so he’s facing Castiel, grabbing one of his hands and lifting it to his lips. He keeps his eyes locked with Castiel’s as he starts trailing kisses on his skin, starting at the center of his palm and working his way toward his elbow. Castiel gasps when his lips brush against the first few cuts before he stops making the noises, instead just breathing slightly quicker than usual as he watches Dean through heavy-lidded eyes. 

When Dean finishes the first arm, he reaches for the second. Castiel whimpers but doesn’t protest. 

“You’re perfect, Castiel,” Dean whispers against his palm. He kisses the first cut. The second. “It’s okay that you have these. It doesn’t change how beautiful you are.”

Castiel’s eyes slide closed, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Dean tells the cuts in above his wrist. 

“I’m sorry for all the times you were hurting.” He kisses the cuts along the edges of his forearm. “I’m sorry for all the times you needed someone.” He kisses the cuts up the inside of his forearm. “I’m sorry, baby.” He brushes his lips along the curve of his inner elbow. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Dean,” Castiel whimpers. Then he releases a sob. It’s choked and wrecked and fucking beautiful. He falls forward, grabbing onto Dean for dear life as he lets go against his chest. 

“Shhh. That’s it. Just let it out.” Dean strokes a hand through Castiel’s curls, rocking them on their feet. “That’s it. You’re okay. I have you.”

“Don’t let go,” Castiel cries. “Don’t - don’t ever let go.”

Dean’s chest seizes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Promise?”

“Promise!”

“Good. That’s real good, baby.” Dean wipes Castiel’s cheeks clean, smiling when the boy smiles. “You want to go to bed?”

The mood shifts, Castiel going from soft and vulnerable to hard and furious in 3.5 seconds. “What?! Bed?”

“Well, that was just-”

“No!” Castiel stomps his foot, which is adorable and bratty and makes Dean slightly worried about his future sanity. “You said we were gonna play.”

“Are you sure you still want to?”

“Yes!” Castiel crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “You said!”

Chuckling, Dean puts his hands up in surrender and nods. “Okay. You’re right. I said.”

He allows his smile to stay in place for another second before dropping it, pulling his dominant mask down after. His body follows suit automatically, his back straightening and his shoulders pulling back. Castiel shudders. 

Dean puts the tip of his finger on Castiel’s right shoulder and begins dragging it as he slowly walks around him. “Now, you understand that the use of safewords means I will not listen if you tell me to stop or slow down or anything of the like, yes?”

“Yes.”

Dean swats the side of Castiel’s ass cheek, making Castiel gasp. “Want to correct that?” 

It takes Castiel a few seconds, which Dean forgives because this is all still new to him, but then Castiel figures it out. “Yes, sir!”

“_Good_. Don’t mess up again.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry… sir?”

Dean smirks since Castiel can’t see him, but he makes sure to keep his voice steady and low, not wanting to give himself away. “You’ll figure out when to say it and when to keep it out. It’ll become natural after a time. As a rule of thumb, if you get the urge to say it, say it. You’re pretty safe as far as_ yes, no, thank you, please,_ and _sorry_. Those all should be followed by a _sir_.” 

“This is a lot,” Castiel whispers, fear blatant in his voice. 

“It doesn’t have to be. We’ll go slow. I’m right here. I’m right here with you. Let me guide you, okay? Trust me to help you through this.”

“Okay.” Castiel fidgets, a nervous habit Dean’s noticed over their time together. He plans to eventually work it out of the boy. Hopefully, it takes a _lot _of time because he has all sorts of ideas on how to train him out of the habit. “Thank you, sir.”

_Gag him. _That’s Dean’s first instinct. He needs to gag him. It’ll take that layer of panic away from him. But to take his verbal safeword from him on their first time together? That’s probably not the best idea. 

Unless they do something simple. Basic. No rope like Dean had planned. 

That could work. 

“Kneel for me, Castiel,” Dean orders, making sure his voice is steady and controlled. Making sure every part of him is like that. It’s his duty to be the strong, reliable one. Castiel needs to be able to trust and depend on him. Dean has to be the constant in this moment. 

Castiel hesitates. “H-here?”

“Yes. Right here beside the door.” Dean points to the black leather cushion that’s about six inches from the doorframe to their left. “Now, Castiel.”

“Yes, sir,” he says quietly as he takes the two steps and falls to his knees on the cushion. The two words sound natural coming from the boy. It makes Dean’s chest swell with pride. 

“Good boy.” Dean walks to the submissive and stops in front of him, his half-mast erection pushing through his pants and trying to reach across the small space between him and Castiel’s mouth. It’d be so easy to pull himself out. To fist his cock and shove it between Castiel’s parted pink lips. One day, he will. He’ll fuck his face right here. 

But not today. 

Dean gets on one knee and gently places his hands on Castiel’s body. As he moves him around, adjusting here or there, he explains himself. “You’ll rest your ass on your heels like this. Good. And straighten your back, pull your shoulders - yes, good. Your arms should be - yes, behind your back. Right there - yes - just like that. Now tilt your chin down - good. _Good_ _boy_. Only look up at me when given permission.”

Dean stands again before taking a step back. He nods in approval. “Good. Whenever I tell you to wait for me here, it will be in this exact spot, in this position. You will wait. No matter how long I make you. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel’s voice gives him away. He doesn’t understand. Not completely.

“Do you have a question, Castiel?”

Castiel fidgets, moving his weight from one knee to the other. Dean can’t wait until they’re a little further along. He’s going to keep a crop on his belt in their scenes, smacking Castiel with it every time the boy fidgets. For now, he’ll let it slide. 

“The waiting…” Castiel begins, shifting again. “Will - will you always be here with me? Or - or will you be somewhere else?” 

“That’s an excellent question, Castiel. I’ll sometimes be somewhere else, but never away from the house. Perhaps I have a meeting downstairs, or a call to make, or a discussion to have with Benny. I’ll send you up here to strip and kneel for me like this. And you’ll wait.”

“But,” Castiel stops himself, biting his bottom lip and shaking his head. His eyes fall closed and his shoulders sag. 

This isn’t a great start.

Dean gets down on a knee again. He cups Castiel’s cheek and lifts his face so their eyes are at the same level. “Open your eyes, Castiel. Look at me.”

Castiel follows the order before whispering, “Sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby. Nothing at all.” Dean rests their foreheads together like he did outside the club. That had seemed to calm Castiel then. Hopefully it works now. 

_God, who knew Dean would be so terrible at this? Starting a submissive from scratch is a lot easier said than done. _

“Cas, can you tell me what you wanted to say? After the ‘but’?” 

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not. Nothing on your mind is ever stupid.”

Castiel blushes and looks away, keeping his forehead pressed against Dean’s even as his eyes dart off to the side. “I just don’t understand how I’ll safeword if you’re not here.” 

“Ahh. Okay.” Dean nods, almost smiling. That’s easy. That’s something he can fix. “I have an intercom system here. It’s attached to my phone. If you’re ever up here and I’m doing something elsewhere, I’ll have my Bluetooth in my ear. The moment you speak your safeword, I’ll hear it as if I was here with you, and I’ll come as fast as I can. I will never leave you in here alone during anything else but kneeling, I swear. But if it still makes you uncomfortable, then it can be something we talk about. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m sorry for not explaining better. I’ve never really done this before.”

Castiel laughs softly, giving him a shy smile. “I’ve never really done this before, either.”

“Well, then I suppose we’ll have to figure it out together.”

“Sounds perfect.” 

“Great.” Dean stands up again. “Eyes on the floor, Castiel. I’m going to explain to you what will be happening tonight, and you’re going to listen quietly, understood?”

Castiel nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Dean strolls away, one hand in his pocket while the other hangs loosely by his side. He approaches the wall of rope and begins to assess it. He’s not going to gag him. Even if there’s a pressure in his mind about what to say and when to say it, it’s better than Dean taking away his ability to ask questions. Lots of questions. Dean wants his boy to be able to talk freely during this. To voice every fear and address every confusion, even if it gives him anxiety to have to do so. 

So, no gag. 

Which means rope. 

And holy hell, Dean can’t wait to bind this boy in rope. 

After a minute or so, Dean reaches forward and takes the red silk shibari rope off the hook it’s hanging from. He begins to undo the knots that are keeping it cleanly together in a split loop as he walks back towards Castiel. He speaks as he moves. “I will tie you with this rope. A somewhat simple pattern. It will restrain your arms in a position similar to where they’re at now. It will frame your cock and balls and run through your ass crack, putting all of it on display for me. Your chest will be bound, and a rope will run around your neck - very loosely. It’s somewhat like the sub at the club’s pattern, but I won’t be suspending you, so it’s simpler. More relaxed.”

Dean runs the tip of the rip along Castiel’s bare shoulder. “Such a pretty boy, your cock wrapped in red, your body soon to be the same. And look at that blush. So beautiful.”

Castiel closes his eyes as if he can escape the humiliation. His cock is painfully hard, though, stretching the lace at his crotch as it begs for attention. The boy might be embarrassed and flustered, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. 

“Maybe, if you’re a really good boy for me, I won’t make any of your pretty pale skin match the rest of you. Though, I’ll be honest with you, I’m sort of hoping I get the chance to do that. I think making you red all over would be quite satisfying.” Just in case, Castiel doesn’t understand exactly what Dean means by that, Dean muses out loud, “I wonder what you’ll end up liking better, the paddle or the whip.”

Castiel whimpers under his breath. It’s clear from the way he squirms that he’s trying to give his cock some form of relief. More pressure, or a touch, or an adjustment. Dean smirks and releases a low, sadistic laugh. It makes Castiel cower and moan at the same time. 

“Would you like to know what I plan to do with you once you’re bound?” 

“Yes, sir,” Castiel pants, eyes dutifully focused on the floor in front of him. 

“I’ll kiss and touch and lick your pretty bare skin. Explore every inch of you. Commit you to memory. I’ll find all the spots that make you giggle, all the spots that make you moan, all the spots that make you gasp. You’re going to be ready to burst before I even touch your cock.” Dean drapes the rope around his shoulders and stands directly in front of his boy, staring down at him. “Does any of that sound like something you wouldn’t like, Castiel?”

With a sharp shake of his head, Castiel says loudly, “No, sir. Love it, sir. Love it.” 

“Mmm, I bet you will. Shall we see?”

“Yes, sir! Pl - please, sir.”

“Stand up, then. Hands remaining behind your back, chin down, eyes on the ground.” Castiel takes a steadying breath before slowly rising to his feet. He adjusts his arms a few times before finding a comfortable way for them to lock behind his back. His eyes never leave the point on the ground between his bare feet and Dean’s leather covered ones. 

“Good boy.” Dean grips Castiel’s bicep gently, but with enough pressure to show his authority. He guides Castiel up the two stairs that lead to the platform the bed is on, then helps him climb onto the mattress and settle in the center of it. He presses a kiss to Castiel’s bare shoulder when he has him where he wants him to be. “Just try to breathe and relax for this. If you feel yourself floating, give into it. Trust me. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean runs the rope through his fingers, appreciating the feel of it. The weight. The strength. The texture. The color. 

Impatient to see that brilliant red intricately wound around Castiel’s pale skin, Dean steps forward and begins. The first line is wrapped around his beautiful submissive’s chest before Dean creates a loop and runs the rope through it, creating a lark’s head. He slides the lark’s head to Castiel’s back. Dean repeats the process once more. Then, with steady hands, Dean passes the rope around Castiel’s slim thigh and up the ass crack, crossing over itself to create a loop in the front, right at the apex of Castiel’s front left hip bone. He brings the rope around back and hooks the opposite ass cheek, bringing it forward and tying another knot at the front of his right hip bone. It puts his pretty submissive’s cock and balls on display for him. He could stare all day. 

Dean secures it all with a hitch at the base of Castiel’s back. 

“Color?” he asks, slightly breathless despite the low amount of energy needed to do this. 

“Green,” Castiel whispers, his voice almost slurring. 

“Good. You’re doing so good for me, baby.” 

Castiel may or may not nod. Dean’s not entirely sure. He’s breathing calmly, though, and he’s smiling. A sleepy, beautiful smile that is full of peace and contentment. 

For the final hitch, Dean presses the lark’s heads together and runs a loop of rope up. He parts the strands and passes them over each of Castiel’s shoulders. Before making the final knot, bringing the two ends together and securing them to the knot at Castiel’s sternum, Dean says quietly, “Breathe in, as much as you can. Expand your chest.”

Nodding to show his understanding, Castiel takes a deep breath, holding it when his lungs are full. Dean hurries to secure the remainder of the rope, making sure the knot is tight. Secure. “Go ahead and exhale.”

When Castiel releases the air from his chest, Dean asks, “Anything too tight? Pinching? Was it hard for you to breathe just now?”

Castiel shakes his head gently. “No, sir. ‘S good. Very good.”

Dean smiles. “So, I can assume that’s a green for color then?”

“Soooo green, sir.” Castiel looks over his shoulder at Dean, eyes glazed and smile lazy. If he didn’t look so unbelievably relaxed and fucking perfect, Dean would scold him for breaking the eye contact rule. He’s pretty sure Castiel is too out of it right now for such rules anyway. He’s honestly surprised the boy remembered to address him properly. 

“Good.” Dean presses a firm kiss to Castiel’s lips, loving the way the boy hums in pleasure. “Your wrists come next. Are you still okay with your wrists being bound?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Hold still, now.” 

Castiel just breathes deeply, relaxing into the mattress and bowing his head. It’s quick work to secure Castiel’s wrists together, but Dean still takes his time, double-checking every knot and loop. Tugging here and there to double-check the integrity of it all. When the wrists are tied together and then secured to the smattering of knots on Castiel’s back, Dean pulls one last time. 

“Color?”

“Green.” Castiel fidgets in his restraints, the lace covering his cock drenched with so much precum it’s two shades darker than the rest of the red fabric. Dean’s not sure if he’s ever seen a submissive stay this hard during a binding. Sure, they’ll usually stay aroused, but it’ll wane. Especially as they slip into subspace, something Castiel is surely doing at the moment. 

“I’m going to use this slack on the rope to secure you to the loop above us. Do you see the loop, baby?” 

Castiel lulls his head on his neck and blinks up at the metal ring just a few feet above them. “Yes, sir.”

“I won’t be suspending you like the boy at the club. I won’t be suspending you at all. This is just to keep you in place. It’ll be similar to me tying these ends of the rope to the bed frame, okay?” 

Castiel just nods. 

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good. Very good. So perfect, baby.” Dean kisses the bare skin on the back of Castiel’s neck, right between the two strings of red rope. “Gorgeous.”

Castiel shivers at the praise and lets his eyes fall closed. 

_Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s falling in love. _

_No. That’s a lie. Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s already very much so in love with this man. _

_Deeply, unbelievably, irrevocably, hopelessly, obsessively, in love with Castiel Novak. _

_Soon to be Castiel Winchester. _

_Oh, boy, does Dean like the sound of that. _

“S-sir?” Castiel whispers, clearly present enough in the moment to realize Dean said he’d be doing something that he’s not doing. 

“You’re doing so well, baby. So good. I’ll tie you to the loop now.”

“Somethin’ wrong?” 

Dean shakes his head. “No. Just thinking about how much I - how happy I am,” Dean corrects last minute, his face heating up. 

Thankfully, Castiel just gives him a giddy smile and admits, “I’m happy too.” 

“Good.” Dean gets up on his knees and places one foot on the mattress behind Castiel so he can half-stand. He reaches up with the rope in his hand and loops it around the metal ring above them. Steadily, he tightens it until he can see the slight twitch of Castiel’s arms when they’re pulled on. Dean loosens it just an inch from that point and secures the knot. Then he asks, “Color?”

“Green,” Castiel whispers, his mind clearly drifting again. 

Dean doesn’t want to pull him out of that so he sits back and just allows Castiel to feel and experience the rope around him. He wonders what Castiel’s feeling right now. When he had done the rope bondage course with Charlie years ago, they tied each other up as practice. It had felt nice. Secure. Grounding. It had never felt like this, though. Dean hadn’t gone near a type of subspace. He hadn’t even gotten aroused. 

Maybe later Castiel would be willing to explain what it feels like to him. Dean’s never thought to ask a submissive before. 

Dean stops his drifting thoughts before they can go any further, knowing he needs to be in the moment during this. His sole focus has to be on Castiel. It’s not a hard task. Not in the least. Especially with how beautiful the boy in front of him is. 

With a gentle hand, Dean begins to trace the outlines of Castiel’s bindings. He trails along the bare skin as he maps out every line and loop. Castiel leans into the touch as much as he can, humming in appreciation. 

When Dean reaches the side of Castiel’s neck, he gracefully shifts so he’s in front of him. He continues touching Castiel, this time exploring his front. Watching the boy closely, Dean passes over Castiel's right nipple, the pad of his thumb skimming across the peak. Castiel gasps like he’d finally emerged from underwater, eyes blinking open wide. 

“Like that?” Dean teases, repeating the action. Castiel’s eyes focus on him, the glaze disappearing as the boy uses the sensation to ground himself in the room. It’s a talent Dean hadn’t expected him to have yet. He figured he’d have to let Castiel drift in subspace for as long as he needed before bringing him back down, possibly without doing anything sexual tonight. Instead, Castiel is owning the scene in his own way. Keeping one foot on the ground so he can enjoy both the mental _and _physical release. 

Dean doesn’t know why he’s even surprised. Castiel has been perfect in every way, right from the start. 

“I asked,” Dean says as he continues to stroke the nipple teasingly. “Do you like that, Castiel?”

Castiel lifts his gaze to look him in the eye, pupils blown. “Yes, sir.”

“What are you looking at, boy?” Dean growls. He closes his thumb and forefinger around the pink nub of Castiel’s nipple and twists. The pain makes Castiel arch his back and hiss. “Did I say you could look at me?”

“No, sir,” Castiel pants, body trembling from the pain. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

With a nod, Castiel drops his chin as well as closes his eyes. He apparently doesn’t want to take any chances. 

“Good boy,” Dean praises. He leans forward and takes Castiel’s abused nipple between his lips. He licks around it before sucking gently. 

“O-ooooooooh.” Castiel’s chest hitches and his cock jumps. “Sssssss- good, sir.”

Dean hums in agreement before pulling away and lightly blowing on the wet nub. As Castiel shivers through the new sensation, Dean moves on to the opposite nipple and gives it the same attention. By the time he’s finished and pulling away to smile at his boy, Castiel is humping the empty air and panting like he’s already getting fucked hard. 

“Please,” Castiel begs, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly it must hurt. “Please, sir.”

“Please, what?” 

“Please - please - any - anything. God. Anything, sir. Please.”

With a dark chuckle, Dean reaches over for the nipple clamps he had grabbed earlier. He had grabbed an assortment of things, not entirely sure what he’d end up using. Now that he knows Castiel’s nipples are this sensitive, though, Dean plans on keeping these around. 

“These are nipple clamps,” he explains, trying his best to stay in the beginner headspace instead of just diving in and devouring Castiel without concern for Castiel’s understanding. There will be times like that - times where it doesn’t matter if Castiel knows exactly what’s happening to his body or what tool is being used. All he’ll care about is how damn good it feels. 

Tonight can’t be one of those times, though. Tonight is all about learning. Understanding. Experiencing. 

Dean rolls a nipple between his fingers, making the peak nice and long. “They’ll hurt at first, but this is my mildest set. It should feel like a hard pinch.”

Castiel just nods rapidly. Then he’s whimpering as one clamp is attached to the nipple Dean had been playing with. Before he can recover, Dean is placing the other clamp to the opposite nipple. 

“Feel good?” Dean asks after a moment. 

Clearly, having a hard time focusing, it takes a moment for Castiel to answer the question. “Feels… _different_.” 

“Good different?”

“Mmmm.” Castiel smiles. It’s slow and lazy. “Gooood, sir.”

“Good.”

“‘S that it, sir?”

“Is that it?” Dean asks, amused by the question. When Castiel nods, Dean chuckles. It’s dark and menacing. Castiel’s entire body shudders in response. “Oh sweetheart, we’re just gettin’ started.”

  


\---- 

  


Castiel never knew he could feel this good. It’s like Dean’s brought him to an entirely new plane of existence - but it’s not scary to be so detached, it’s not like when his depression numbs him until he’s floating away. This feels safe. Comfortable. 

Because Dean is right here with him. 

They’re in this together. 

“Still with me, Castiel?” Dean asks as he drags the tip of a finger down the side of Castiel’s neck and across his bare shoulder. 

Through a shiver, Castiel whispers, “Here, sir.”

“How do you feel?”

Are there even words that exist to describe how Castiel feels right now? If there are, Castiel can’t think of them. Not in this moment. Not with Dean’s lips wrapping around his earlobe and his fingers fiddling with the heavy chain connecting Castiel's two nipple clamps. 

“You were asked a question, boy,” Dean growls into his ear before tugging harshly at the chain. “Answer or I’ll spank your ass red.” 

“I-” Castiel can’t fucking think straight. Maybe he wants to be spanked. _What would that be like? Would it make him harder, or make him cower in pain? Does he really want to find out right now? _Probably not. “Good, sir,” he manages. 

“I want more than that. Tell me what it _feels_ like.”

Castiel shakes his head and tries to move so he can look at Dean. When he can’t find him, he starts searching the room as if it has all of the answers. “I - I-”

“Use your words. Concentrate and think. What does this feel like?” Dean whispers just before latching onto his trap and biting. 

“Ah!” Castiel arches his back until the rope stops him. Then he’s forced to just take it as Dean bites him again, this time on the side of his neck. He tries to look at the man but remembers last second he’s not allowed. 

“That’s three times now you haven’t pleased me. That’s three spankings,” Dean warns. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want more.” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Castiel tries to focus. He pushes away any anxiety about failing at this and disappointing Dean. He pushes the nerves away regarding the possible loss of his virginity tonight. He pushes out his depression. Kicks away the panic attacks. Screams at his father for marrying him off to a man that could have been a monster. 

Focuses every cell of his body on the man who turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to him. 

“Hurts, sir,” Castiel whispers, focusing on the way the teeth feel against his skin. “Sharp. Then - then kinda throbs.”

“Good boy. And what’s this feel like?” Dean asks as he sucks on a surprisingly sensitive spot right below his left ear. 

“Ooooh.” Castiel bucks in his restraints but then quickly presses back for more. So much more. “Feels fuckin’ fantastic.”

Dean chuckles. It’s low and throaty and just the sound of it nearly unravels him. He ends up whimpering when Dean sucks the spot again. “I want more than that, though. What does it _feel_ like?” 

He sucks again, and Castiel cries out. He feels ready to break, and he’s not sure if it’s a good break or a bad one. Fear crawls along his skin and he tries to squeeze his eyes shut tighter than they already are. 

“Uh - um - shit - no, no, no, don’t stop!” Castiel pushes back further and further when Dean pulls away. His restraints stop him though, and still no Dean. He opens his eyes wide and looks over his shoulder to find Dean off the bed. “No! No, babe, Dean, please, fuck, sir. Come back. Come back. ‘M sorry. Feels - feels like - like fuckin’ lightning. I can feel it everywhere. Like in my fuckin’ toes, sir. Please come back.”

“Sh, sh, sh,” Dean hushes him with a gentle hand on his right shoulder. His thumb skims softly along Castiel’s bare skin and Castiel leans into the touch, even going so far as to press his cheek against the back of Dean’s hand. He may or may not nuzzle it. Everything’s a bit confusing at the moment. “I just went to get you one more new toy.” 

“N - new toy?” 

“Mhhhm.” Dean uses the hand beneath his cheek to guide his head up until it’s straight again. Then something that feels like leather skims across his temple before covering his eyes. He startles, his muscles tensing as his breath catches in his throat. “Shhhh, now. I’m right here. I want to take your sight away. It’ll help you focus only on what you feel, okay? So you don’t have to be so worried about squeezing those pretty eyes so tight. So you can just relax and _feel_.” 

“Okay,” Castiel whispers, not feeling too sure about anything anymore. 

“Not okay. Yes, sir.”

Castiel swallows hard and nods. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

“Color?”

It takes Castiel a second. He tries to open his eyes only to be met with darkness. The leather brushes against his eyelashes uncomfortably so he hurries to close them again. “Y-yellow, sir.”

The pleased hum from Dean is a surprise. Castiel had expected anger or annoyance. “Such a good boy for me. So good, Cas. So fuckin’ good.” 

“R-really?” 

“Yes.” The blindfold is removed so he can see Dean kneeling in front of him. He cups the sides of Castiel’s cheeks and kisses him. It’s slow. Thorough. Mind-blowing. Castiel can _breathe _again. 

When Dean breaks the kiss, Castiel quickly looks down at his lap. Dean puts his fingers beneath Castiel’s chin and lifts until their eyes are locked. The smile on Dean’s lips is fond. Loving. “There’s those big, beautiful blue eyes I love so much.”

“Am I ruining it?” Castiel asks under his breath, hating how pathetic he sounds. 

“Not at all. This is already better than I ever thought it’d be.” Dean shakes his head in amazement. “I’ve never done this with someone I lo - feel so… strongly about. Doing this with you, Cas. It’s like… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Castiel smirks. “Not so easy to find the words, is it?”

The look on Dean’s face is priceless. His eyebrows raise and his lips part in surprise. It takes him a moment to even figure out what to say, which just proves Castiel’s point further. Then a slow, mischievous smile forms on his face until he’s grinning at Castiel like he might eat him alive. “Alright. So you’re a bratty sub. I can handle that.”

Castiel isn’t sure what that means, but if Dean can handle it, then it means whatever Castiel did - whatever he’s doing - he doesn’t have to change. It takes a heavy weight off his shoulders.

Dean’s hands drift along his ropes. “Everything here still feeling good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nothing’s tingling? Nothing’s tight? Losing feeling? Stretched the wrong way?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Dean taps his temple and asks with a very gentle voice, “Feelin’ better up here?”

“Much. Thank you, sir.”

Dean smiles. “You still have three spankings, so don’t thank me yet.”

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Castiel quietly asks, “Are you gonna put the blindfold back on?”

“I am. But it’s very important for you to know that if you yellow it right away, I won’t be upset. At all. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. So good.” The blindfold is secured around his eyes and he allows himself to sink into the darkness. To give in to the sensation of the rope on his skin. The heat of Dean nearby. The feel of precum dripping onto his left thigh. 

“Now, since my sassy boy pointed out how hard it is to come up with words for things, I suppose we can stop playing that game.” 

“Game?” Castiel scoffs. “Games are supposed to be fun, asshole.”

A sharp swat to his right thigh makes him jump in his restraints. “Watch yourself. You’re on thin ice. And if you’re going to be sassy, the least you can do is address me properly.” 

“S - sorry, sir.” Castiel is panting. Shaking. But it’s not out of fear or pain. It’s out of lust. Need. Want. Desperation. 

“New game,” Dean says in a cold, detached voice that brings goosebumps to Castiel’s skin. He makes a mental note that although Dean can handle a bratty sub, Dean won’t let it slide. Castiel is definitely going to keep that in mind for future reference. “Put more of your weight on your knees. I’m about to cut the rope loose that’s tied to the loop above you.”

“But-”

“Were you asked a question?”

Castiel pauses. “No, sir.”

“Was there a need for you to say yes, no, please, or thank you?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you need to safeword?”

“No, sir,” Castiel grumbles, fully pouting at this point. 

“Then I suggest you keep that mouth closed before I stuff it so full of my cock you can’t make any sounds at all.”

With a sharp nod, Castiel bites down on his bottom lip and plays a reminder on repeat in his mind to stay quiet. The rope is cut and the pressure on his shoulders and neck is released. He relaxes into the mattress, but that only lasts a second before he’s being shoved down, his face in a pillow and his ass in the air. 

“I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to eat you out.” 

“You’re go-”

“No. Talking.” Dean hits him twice, once on each cheek as he says the words. Then he chuckles, the sound low and dark and fucking threatening. _Oh no…_ “I have a great idea.”

Castiel doubts it’s great, but he definitely does not say that out loud. 

He holds his breath, waiting for whatever Dean’s going to do. It takes him completely by surprise when he feels Dean’s fingers grab the edges of his lace briefs and yank. The fabric digs into his skin, making him gasp, before snapping free. He lifts his head, parting his lips to ask why Dean did that when he claimed to love them so much, but he’s stopped by something getting shoved into his mouth. It’s a coarse fabric with a slightly salty taste to it, and it takes Castiel a second before the horrifying realization hits him. 

Dean just gagged him with his fucking lace panties. That’s his own precum he can taste. He feels like he should be pissed - he tells himself to be pissed, to be annoyed - but all his body does is shiver and moan. 

“Spit it out,” Dean orders. Castiel pauses, not sure if he understands. He trusts Dean, though. If he does something wrong and admits it was because he was confused, he doesn’t think Dean will punish him. At least not in a bad way. 

Hoping he’s right in his assumption of what Dean’s asking, Castiel pushes at the fabric with his tongue until it’s falling out of his mouth. 

“Good boy,” Dean coos, shoving it back in. “Again.”

Castiel scrunches his nose in confusion but obeys. 

“Again.”

“Bu-” the fabric muffles his complaint, making him growl in frustration instead. A sharp tug on his nipple clamps makes him arch his back and cry out. 

“I said again.”

Castiel spits the fabric out and follows it with a desperate string of, “Sorry, sir! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sir! I’ll listen. I’ll be so go-”

The fabric is back in, silencing him. “That stays in your fucking mouth unless I take it out or you need to safeword. Understood?”

Now understanding why Dean made him spit it out so many times, Castiel nods his head and says, “Yes, sir,” through the fabric. It doesn’t come out sounding at all like that, of course, which makes Dean chuckle. Castiel can feel his body flush in humiliation. Strangely enough, though, he can feel his cock getting harder too. 

“I’m going to spank you with a paddle because you’ve been a naughty boy, Castiel. Not only did you earn spankings by disobeying but you were very rude to your sir, weren’t you?”

Dean’s disappointment burns in Castiel’s throat. It’s acid on his tongue. But… there’s a thrill to it, too. Almost as if he likes that he made Dean mad. As if he likes that he’s about to be punished for being a naughty boy. 

Castiel nods, confused about his conflicting emotions. A sob echoes through his chest as his cock dribbles precum along the inside of his thigh. _What’s happening to him? _

“Hush now. You’re okay. I’ll spank you with the paddle, then eat you out.” Castiel sinks down into the mattress, moaning pathetically. He watched a video of that on the website Dean sent him. It looked good.

Dean laughs at his response before continuing. “I’ll spank you with the paddle again, then finger you. Then I’ll spank you with the paddle, and you’ll be able to choose if you’d like to come on my fingers and then suck me off, or if you’d like to come on my cock inside you. Don’t make the choice now. Think on it. Focus on it. Focus on how everything feels. The pain from the paddle. The pleasure from my mouth and hands. Then make your decision on what you think will feel the best for you in that moment. That’s important to me, okay, Castiel? Make that decision for you. Not for me. I’ll be happy either way. I’ll be happy if you yellow during this. Even if you red. This is all about you. Be selfish. Understood?”

Castiel squirms in place, his cock heavy between his thighs as the leaking tip rests against the mattress. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t want to be selfish. He’s not good at being selfish. He doesn’t know how. 

But… that’s not a safeword, and Dean didn’t remove the lace from his mouth, but all Castiel can do is whine in frustration. 

“What? Does my boy not like his punishment?” Dean asks in a taunting voice. “Does he want more pain?”

“No!” Castiel shouts through his gag, shaking his head furiously. No more pain. He’ll be selfish. He can totally be selfish. Dean doesn’t have to give him any more pain. 

Dean laughs softly. There’s a dark promise in it that sends chills down Castiel’s spine. “Good. Then take your punishment like a good boy. Once it’s over, all is forgiven, and we move on. That’s how every punishment will be with us. _Always_. Understood?”

Castiel likes that. Likes that a lot. He can be mouthy, get punished, and then still be sir’s good boy after. 

It’s freeing. He nods. 

“Good boy. So good for me.” Castiel feels Dean shift behind him and sucks on the lace in his mouth to… well, he doesn’t know why to be honest. But it seems to calm him so he doesn’t stop. “I’m going to tap you with the paddle first. Show you the texture of it. The weight of it. Okay?”

Castiel nods. 

“Nod for green, otherwise spit out your pretty panties for yellow or red.”

Castiel pauses, but it’s brief. He’s nervous, but he fucking wants this. He wants it so much he feels like he might die if it doesn’t happen soon. So, he nods. 

“Good. And your ropes? How’s everything feeling? Nod if they’re fine, spit out and speak to me if something’s off.”

Castiel nods. 

“Good. So good for me. You ready to start then?”

Nodding, Castiel squirms as much as his rope allows and settles into a semi-comfortable position. 

He holds his breath. It takes a few seconds, and then a paddle that feels like it’s wrapped in leather taps against his right ass cheek. It’s solid. Heavy but not too heavy. The texture feels strange against his skin, but also warm and almost… comfortable. Like a caress of sorts. 

Dean’s already panting when he asks, “Color? Nod or spit.”

Castiel nods.

He expects a ‘good’ or a ‘good boy’ or maybe some more instructions and guidance. What he doesn’t expect is the harsh sting of the paddle being brought down on the exact same spot it had just tapped a moment ago. He feels it down to his bones. Up his spine. In his cock. 

_Oh, boy, does he sure feel it in his cock. _

As his skin throbs and stings, Castiel waits for Dean to ask his color or maybe announce the next step in case Castiel had forgotten it. 

Nope. 

Castiel’s skin still hasn’t stopped hurting when Dean dives straight in and licks a stripe right along his crack. 

The groan that forces its way around the lace and out his mouth is filthy and embarrassing, and Castiel couldn’t care less. He buries his face even deeper in the pillow and arches his back as much as he can, begging Dean for more. Everything is so intense. So fucking good. That pain in his skin isn’t pain anymore. It’s more like background music to a beautiful song of pleasure. 

It’s too long, overwhelmingly so, but it’s also over way too fucking soon. 

“Nod or spit.”

Castiel nods. He nods so fucking hard he’s surprised his neck doesn’t snap. 

The paddle comes again, this time on the left. It seems harder somehow. More powerful. It zings down his thigh and to his toes. He thinks maybe he could come from that alone. It sends a prideful thrill through him as he remembers that Alistair hadn’t thought Castiel would be the kind of sub to manage something like that. 

_Fuck you, Alistair. I’m perfect for Dean. So… there. _

Castiel’s positive he’ll come when he feels Dean’s thumb slowly circling his soaking wet hole. 

“If you had been a good boy for me, your punishment would already be over,” Dean taunts. At the same time, a finger slides into Castiel’s hole and curls inside him in a way Castiel didn’t even know could happen inside such a tight space. His body gives out against the mattress as his cock jumps and jumps and jumps. He swears he’s going to come, but he doesn’t. He needs more. Just a little bit more. 

Castiel manages to grind once against the sheets before he’s screaming through his gag in agony. It takes a moment for his brain to push through the white-hot pain before he realizes what’s happening. 

Dean has him by the balls. 

“Don’t you dare!” Dean growls, his voice is so fucking angry but so fucking aroused at the same time. “If you come before I say so, you’ll fucking regret it, boy.”

Castiel moans wantonly, clenching around Dean’s fingers. His cock is still heavy despite Dean’s grip on his balls, but the sudden urgency has faded. Dean must be able to tell because he lets go of his sack and gently kisses it. The small brush of lips against him makes Castiel quiver. 

He wants to beg but he can’t with the lace in his mouth. All he can do is tremble and whine, trying his best to move against Dean’s hand when his ropes have him all tangled and tightly bound. He sobs into his gag, tears pooling beneath his blindfold and slipping down his cheeks. 

“Ohhh, is my bratty boy regretting his sass?” 

Castiel nods rapidly, sobbing harder. It’s so good. Fuck, is it _good_. He never believed he could feel this good. 

A low groan vibrates against the small of his back right before Dean presses a firm kiss against the same spot. Then another finger is sliding in. Slow and deliberate, burning its way through him, the fire traveling from Castiel’s hole all the way to his gut.

He doesn’t think Dean’s cock will fit in there. 

No way in hell. 

Dean slides in another finger. 

Castiel lifts his head and throws it back before shaking it back and forth. He’s going to come. He’s going to come and he doesn’t know how to tell Dean. He doesn’t - Castiel shrieks into his gag as Dean’s hand grabs his balls again. He dissolves into heavy, wet sobs as Dean lets go, stroking the abused skin of his sack and cooing at Castiel like he’s a poor little injured animal Dean happened to stumble upon. 

Panting heavily, Dean presses up against his back and reaches around to pull the gag from his mouth. Castiel releases a sob that’s loud enough to make him cringe. He’s already starting to calm down, though. It’s impossible not to as Dean peppers little kisses along his back and shoulders, whispering things like, “That’s it,” and “So good for me,” and “Such a good boy,” and, “Almost done sweetheart.”

When he has Castiel pulled safely back from the edge, Dean asks, “Color?”

“Green.” Castiel collapses against the pillow and starts chuckling to himself. “So fucking green, sir.”

“Make that decision of yours yet?”

“Shit. Uh.” Castiel sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. He’s not even sure if Dean would fit in him. _But does he want their first time doing this to be without full sex? Or maybe that’s how it should be? Maybe the first time they have sex should be outside of the playroom?_

_Does Dean even have sex outside of the playroom? Like just normal boring sex? Is that a thing he does? _

_Is Castiel really ready to fully sleep with him?_

_Is Castiel really ready to give into everything with Dean? To give up every single part of him to the man he’s not even sure he’s in love with? I mean… they haven’t even said ‘I love you.’ Shouldn’t they say that before-_

“Shh, shh, shh,” Dean hushes gently. He rests his hand on the outside of Castiel’s right hip and strokes the skin with his thumb. “This was a present for you. Letting you choose. Is that giving you anxiety, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel releases the biggest sigh of relief. “Yes.”

“You’ll come on my fingers then. Okay?”

Smiling, Castiel whispers in a voice raspy from rough use, “Thank you, sir.”

“How are those ropes, baby?”

“Good. Thank you, sir.” Castiel feels all warm and fuzzy, unable to stop himself from grinning like a lovesick idiot. “You don’t have to be so worried ‘bout me all the time.”

“It’s my job to take care of you. I’ll _always _take care of you.” Dean kisses the small of his back again. “I’m right here with you, Cas. Right here.”

Dean lifts the paddle and hits the center of his ass so both cheeks are partially spanked. When Castiel arches and lifts his ass, two of Dean’s fingers slip back inside him effortlessly. It’s different than before. Like Dean is… searching for something? Trying to make them fit better? Trying to stretch him so more - 

“Ahhhhhhhh!” Castiel tries to sit straight up, forgetting all about the ropes. He falls forward and partially onto his side. Instead of helping him back up, Dean just straddles one of his legs and comes at him from a different angle. His free hand presses down on Castiel’s hip that’s pointed toward the ceiling, holding him in place. Forcing him to take it. 

Castiel tries speaking. He tries very fucking hard. Whatever noises that come out of his mouth, though, aren’t words. They’re barely even proper syllables. Is this his prostate? He didn’t even think that was real. Well, obviously it’s real, people can get prostate cancer and all that, but he didn’t think this part of it was real. He figured that was just something they made up for those cheesy romance novels he most definitely did _not _read… _ever_. 

“De - sir,” he manages to eventually cry out. He’s trying to rock his body. Trying to get more of Dean’s fingers inside of him. More of the sheets against his neglected cock. He’s possibly sobbing at this point. Castiel’s not quite sure anymore. 

“Fucking hell, look at you. So eager. So good for me.” Dean brushes his free hand over Castiel’s abused ass, making the skin burn all over again. Castiel’s breath hitches, and he shudders. It’s strange how the pain surges his pleasure, but he’s not complaining. “You gonna come on sir’s fingers, boy? Gonna fuck yourself until you’re finished?” 

“I - n - we - please!” Castiel all but screeches, not caring how embarrassed he should probably be. There’s no time for embarrassment right now. No time for anything but _sir_. Sir, sir, sir. Sir’s fingers fucking into him. Sir’s thumb pressing up against his taint. Sir’s hand rubbing his injured ass cheeks. Sir’s voice. 

Just… _sir_. 

Castiel’s entire world has been boiled down to sir, and he’s not sure he ever wants to come back from that. 

“Come for me,” Sir growls, his fingers curling against Castiel’s prostate and setting a brutally glorious pace. “That’s a fucking order, boy. _Come_.”

There’s no other option than to obey. 

So Castiel does. His body bows, his breath catching in his throat, his mind turning numb and fuzzy. He knows somewhere in the distance that he’s coming but he can’t quite connect to it. Everything is too distant. It’s as if sir had wrapped him in a safe little bubble and gently nudged him into the air, sending him off to float nearby. Not too far, though. He can still feel sir. Sense him. 

Sir would never leave him. 

Castiel becomes aware enough to realize sir isn’t just nearby. No. Sir is right behind him, the slick sound of lube on skin filling the air. He musters every ounce of energy he has left and asks in a tiny, sad voice, “Sir, you said I’d do that.”

“Do what, baby?” 

“Suck you.”

Sir groans. “You want that, baby? You want to suck me off?” 

“Yes, sir,” Castiel begs. “Please. Please, I want that really really bad.”

He doesn’t notice he’s crying - literally sobbing for a cock in his mouth - until sir takes his blindfold off and whispers, “Shhh, now. No more tears, baby. Sir will give you what you need.” 

The lights are low enough in the playroom, where it only takes a few seconds for Castiel to blink his eyes back to normal. Then he’s looking up into the gorgeous face of his sir, mesmerized by him. “Thank you, sir,” he whispers, meaning it. Meaning it so very fucking much. 

Sir smirks, running the tip of his cock along Castiel’s lips. He does it twice, all the way around, before slowly pushing forward. The lube is sort of gross on Castiel’s tongue but he’s determined not to let it bother him. In fact, he decides he’ll just have to lick and suck sir so hard that the lube eventually comes off. Then he can experience what sir’s cock is like for real. 

Yes. That’s an excellent idea. 

Castiel pushes forward the best he can, trying to put his plan into motion, but his ropes stop him. Even if they didn’t, sir’s grip is so tight on his hair he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move anyway. All he can do is sit there and take it as sir plunges into his mouth. He’s doing it too shallow, though. Barely gliding along Castiel’s tongue at all. Castiel tries to open his mouth wider, tries begging with his mouth full for sir to fuck his throat like he saw in all those videos, but sir just keeps his steady pace, jacking himself with his hand and only using Castiel’s mouth as a suction for the crown of his cock. 

Not that Castiel’s complaining. The precum that’s hitting his tongue is masking the taste of the lube, and watching sir slowly lose himself to pleasure is more than enough. 

With a low, guttural moan, sir bucks forward a final time and comes. His green eyes droop and he stares slack-jawed down at Castiel’s as Castiel slurps at the head of his cock, trying to get as much of his cum as he can. He can feel it in his throat and his stomach. Can feel it on his tongue. Dripping down his chin. On his thigh, where a drop landed.

It’s like Castiel is drenched in sir. Marked as _his_. 

And he’s never been happier. 

  


\---- 

Dean’s never been a huge fan of aftercare. He’s great at it, don’t get him wrong. It’s important. Vital. The submissive needs to be taken care of, and the dominant needs to be the one doing that. It’s not like Dean hated it, even. It was perfectly fine. Clean the submissive up. Hug them. Hold them. Give them juice or water or a snack. Reassure them. 

Then, as soon as fucking possible, get ‘em out the door. 

Right now, as Castiel drifts in subspace with a sleepy little smile on his face, Dean’s not entirely sure which he loves more. The sex or the aftercare. He’s starting to get the feeling he’s just going to love everything from this point on. Every single second spent with Castiel. And he’s perfectly okay with that. 

Very carefully, Dean rolls away from Castiel and begins freeing him from the tangle of rope. There are dark pink lines on his skin where the material had been. He knows he has to be careful moving any of Castiel’s body parts too soon, so he leaves the boy alone for a minute while he goes to collect everything he needs. 

Dean may have gone a bit overboard on all of the new stuff he bought Castiel for this. He may or may not have made him a pimped-out aftercare kit, as well as stocked his fridge to the brim with everything he could think of. 

He’s perfectly okay with that too. 

He double-checks that Castiel is still happy and floating, then quickly leaves the main area to get the things he bought his boy. He pulls a Gatorade and some dark chocolate from the fridge, then grabs the basket he made and heads back to the bed. He sets everything on the side table and sits on the mattress to check on Castiel again. 

The boy is starting to stir but his gaze is still far away. His mind is floating closer, but not close enough for Dean to tug at yet. The last thing he wants to do after their first time together is yank Castiel down into a drop. 

Instead of trying to rush it, Dean just lights the aromatherapy candles around the bed and climbs in next to Castiel. He pulls Castiel in close, careful not to jostle him too much, and covers them with a clean blanket to keep him warm. As he waits for Castiel to float back to him, he presses light kisses to the boy’s sweaty skin. Every few seconds, he has to stop and pull away just so he can smile. 

He can’t stop fucking smiling. 

It’s glorious.

After a few more minutes, Castiel stirs beside him and blinks slowly.

"Hey you," Dean says softly when he notices big blue eyes finally focusing on him.

Castiel gives him a very sleepy smile. "Hey."

“You did so well for me. Such a good, sweet boy.” Castiel blushes, tucking his face against Dean’s chest as if he can hide from him. He chuckles before pressing a kiss to the crown of his boy’s head. “If you keep hiding, you don’t get your treats.”

This gets Castiel’s attention. He tilts his chin so he can look at Dean, a question in his eyes. Dean waits for him to ask the question but he doesn’t. Just watches Dean expectantly. Dean doesn’t mind that. Many subs go non-verbal for a while after a scene. Whatever Castiel needs, Dean will support. 

“Here, let’s sit you up a bit.” Dean props his boy up on a few pillows, then reaches over for the basket and Gatorade. He smiles at the look on Castiel’s face when he takes the basket in. His hand reaches out tentatively before he pulls it away. Dean shakes his head. He won’t have that. Not at all. “This is all yours, baby. If there’s something you want, go ahead and take it.”

For a brief moment, Dean worries Castiel isn’t going to listen. Then, very slowly, Castiel reaches into the large basket and grabs something Dean had sort of hoped he’d grab. It was something he bought on a whim last time he was in the city. Something he’d never even considered getting another sub. Something he hadn’t expected. But it had caught his eye and Dean had pictured Castiel with it, and that was it. He had to buy it. 

And now here Castiel is, carefully holding it like it’s precious instead of four dollars. “Do you like it?”

Castiel nods, his cheeks turning red. 

“It’s okay for you to like it, baby. Doesn’t mean anything. Plenty of grown-ups, kinky or otherwise, like them.” Dean brushes a curl off of Castiel’s forehead, smiling fondly at him. “It’s soft, isn’t it?”

This time, Castiel not only nods, but he also smiles. He sinks back against the pillow and shyly brings the bunny up to his chest, resting a sweaty, tear-soaked cheek against it. His big blue eyes look at Dean in a silent thank you, and Dean nods. “Let’s get you somethin’ to drink, hmmm? You must be thirsty.” 

Castiel nods again, his eyes starting to slide closed. Dean better hurry this along before he loses him. 

He prods Castiel back awake and offers him the Gatorade with a bendy straw in it, praising him when he takes a drink. After getting Castiel to take three more sips, Dean offers him some dark chocolate, chuckling softly when Castiel just opens his mouth as an invitation for the food. They continue this for a few more minutes before Castiel pushes his hand away and grumbles against his bunny. 

“Is someone sleepy?”

“Mmmmmmmmmmhm.”

“Okay. Can you tell me how you’re feeling, first?”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel groans and laughs at the same time. "There ya go, makin' me describe feelings again."

The sass once again catches Dean by surprise but he recovers quickly, pinching Castiel's ass. "You're a brat, ya know that?" 

Castiel giggles mischievously and nods. "But you love it!"

"Oooh you think so, huh?"

"Mhhhm."

"And why is that?" 

Castiel beams up at him. "Because I'm so cute."

“Such a brat.” Dean sighs dramatically. "I guess you're right, though. Suppose I'll keep you around after all."

"Good.” Castiel sticks his tongue out at him. “Because you’re stuck with me. Arranged marriage and all, ya know?”

“Oh darn. Whatever will I do?”

“I don’t know. It’s gonna be really hard… pretending to like you and all.” Castiel tries to keep his face straight but fails, giving into a small fit of giggles. 

Dean's heart fucking swoops. He loves this version of Castiel. Open. Free. Happy. There's a beautiful personality beneath all the fear and anxiety. Dean loves Castiel no matter what kind of day he's having, don't get him wrong, but there's such a lightness in the air right now as they lay chest to chest. A lightness he never thought he'd achieve in his life. It just wasn't in the cards for him. 

"Are you done being a goof?” Dean asks - mostly to keep himself from admitting he’s in love. “I'd like to check in."

Probably able to understand that Dean needs a moment of seriousness, Castiel pulls away enough to look him in the eyes. 

Then he says something that knocks the breath out of Dean's chest because it's not teasing. It's genuine. Serious. "Yes, sir." 

Dean sits up, trying to gain his composure. "You don't have to call me sir anymore, Cas."

The way Castiel's face crumples makes Dean flinch. He quickly adds, "Unless you want to!"

"I don't know." Castiel shrugs before looking at him through his lashes. "What do you want?"

"Anything. Anything at all that you are willing to give me, Cas."

Castiel fidgets. His throat bobs when he gulps. "I'm just gonna miss it," he admits sheepishly. 

"Miss what?"

"The control. The peace I feel. The connection. S-" Castiel stops himself, blushing. 

Dean gently grips Castiel's chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it until they're looking at each other. "What were you going to say just now?"

"It's stupid."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"I just… I'd miss," Castiel tries to look away again, but Dean doesn't allow it. The boy sags in defeat, blushing all the way down his chest and to the tips of his ears. "I'd miss _sir. _I know that's stupid because you're him, and I like _you_, don't get me wrong, I do, but it's just… it's like I can _breathe_ when you're him. When you take it all away." 

Dean smiles fondly. "He's as much a part of me as being a sub is for you. I feel that same calm. Knowing you're taken care of, knowing you're happy, knowing you're safe. That makes it easier for _me _to breathe. Taking everything away and carrying it for you makes me feel more like myself than ever before." 

Castiel's lips twitch into a smile. "Really?" 

"Absolutely." Dean kisses him gently, smiling when Castiel turns needy and tries chasing him for more when Dean pulls away. He grips Castiel's hair tight enough to make the boy whine and holds him in place. "We'll talk about it more in the morning but if you'd like this to be 24/7, I would be thrilled to do so. I promise I will take very good care of you. _Always_." 

Castiel nods. "Okay, sir." 

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carries Castiel to the bathroom and cleans him up with a damp cloth. Castiel asks politely not to bathe or shower since he's so exhausted, and Dean agrees completely. They'll do that in the morning. 

For now, Dean just can't wait to get in bed with a man he’s pretty sure is going to be the love of his life. 

His submissive. 

His future husband. 

"Dean? Sir?" Castiel whispers once they're wrapped up beneath the covers of their normal bed, tangled in each other's arms, the blue bunny squished between them. 

"Yes?" 

"Always?" 

Dean smiles so hard it hurts as he pulls his boy in closer and kisses his forehead. "Yes, Castiel. _Always_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever !


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * Warning for a sub drop *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got overloaded in comments recently (which I LOVED, don't get me wrong), so I ended up just replying to the ones on current chapters. If I never replied to your comment I PROMISE that I still read it and GREATLY appreciated it. I got busy and they just piled up too much for me to handle at the moment. I'm still so thankful for every comment. Even if I can't reply, each one makes me so happy and inspired <3 Thank you!

Castiel feels stupid when he wakes up in the morning. He sneaks out of the bedroom, leaving behind a sleeping Dean, and heads to the kitchen to make coffee. He'd try cooking for Dean to thank him for how amazing last night was but one, he's an awful cook, and two, Castiel is - as previously stated - feeling really fucking stupid at the moment. 

His face burns at the memories alone. He can't believe he asked Dean if he could stay sir outside of the playroom. Dean had acted like it was maybe something he would like, he had even made a promise to Castiel that he would always care for him and protect him and make him happy, but he had also put the conversation off. Probably because Castiel was too fragile after a scene to be rejected right away. 

And the bunny. Castiel fucking cuddled a stuffed bunny like a child! Which is exactly what his dad was always saying about him. He’s a child. A stupid, helpless, pathetic child. Someone who can’t handle the reality of the real world like everyone else. Someone weak. 

Someone who tries taking the easy way out. 

Castiel is dreading Dean waking up. 

He's seriously considering trying to escape with Charlie somewhere when he hears a slow, deep, "Good morning, angel." 

_Angel_.

Oh, Castiel likes that one a lot. He shouldn’t, the angels are the enemies of this entire household, and he should probably feel wrong for being one of them, but… being Dean’s angel? That sounds… there isn’t even a word that exists for it. 

He likes it enough that he accidentally perks up and looks directly at Dean. The man is gorgeous as he leans a shoulder against the doorframe, sunlight making his bare torso glow. Athletic shorts hang low on his hips, revealing the beginnings of his well-kept pubic hair. 

Castiel's honestly shocked. He manages a stuttered, "Good morning." 

Dean tilts his head like he's studying him. His green eyes narrow. "Would you like to address me properly, boy?" 

Without Castiel's permission, at least 5 layers of anxiety melt away the moment his mind registers the words. He quickly lowers his chin to look at the ground and says in a much steadier voice, "Good morning, sir." 

"Mmmm. Very good. You may look at me freely until I say otherwise." 

Castiel takes the opportunity to look at him the moment the permission has been granted. He gasps when he sees that Dean moved closer to him. Much closer. He's now in arms distance. 

Castiel regrets asking for this whole bdsm outside of the playroom thing because he'd give anything to reach out for Dean, and he knows that's probably against the rules now.

In fact, Castel doesn’t fucking know the rules at all. 

The thought startles Castiel as he realizes he should probably be on his knees. _Should he have been on his knees when Dean walked in? Was he even allowed to have coffee? What's the protocol here?_

The first words out of his mouth had been wrong, according to Dean. _What if everything else ends up being wrong too?_

"Heeey, shh, shh, shh." Big arms wrap around Castiel and pull him into Dean's solid chest. Castiel doesn't understand why Dean did that or why he's hushing him until he feels Dean's breathing against his own. 

He's having an attack. 

"Come back to me, Cas," Dean whispers softly. "Deep breaths. Shhh, deep breaths." 

Castiel clings to him as tightly as he can, whimpering as his body jerks and trembles. If he thought he felt like an idiot before, that was nothing compared to how he feels now. Dean is probably regretting everything. He probably wishes he had slept with that submissive at the club last night. _What was his name? Carter? Conrad? _

_How could Castiel be so stupid? How could he forget to call him the proper title? He’s the one who asked if he could do so. _

“Cas, baby.” This time, Dean’s words aren’t calm and soothing. They’re desperate. He needs Castiel to stop this, and Castiel can’t. He fucking can’t. 

Pushing away from Dean, Castiel shakes his head violently and puts a hand up. He doesn’t deserve Dean’s love right now. He doesn’t deserve to be comforted. Castiel has to go. He has to get away. 

He’s ruined everything. 

“Cas?” 

“I-” Castiel chokes on his own voice and shakes his head again. 

His chaotic, panicked mind can only give him one command. 

Run. 

It’s simple. Easy. Something Castiel can handle. 

So he listens to it. 

Castiel runs. 

Except his legs don’t cooperate. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get his body to move. 

Dean steps forward, his hand reaching out, and Castiel’s ability to speak comes back to him. “Don’t touch me!”

“Okay.” Dean puts his hands in the air and steps back. “What can I do? What’s going on?”

“Just - I need space.” Castiel nods to himself. Yes. That’s what he needs. Space. And if his body won’t let him run, then he’ll push Dean away instead. “Just give me space.”

“Okay.” 

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut tight. “More - more space.” 

“Cas, babe, I’m not leaving you alone right now.”

Something resembling both shame and anger sparks inside Castiel’s chest. “Then get me a fucking babysitter.” 

The sound Dean releases makes Castiel cringe. 

“I don’t want someone else with you,” Dean whispers. “I want to be the one with you.” 

Castiel takes in a breath, trying to stave off a new wave of panic. Unfortunately, when he releases the breath, a choked sob accompanies it. All of his energy leaves him and he collapses to the floor. At least, he starts to. Dean scoops him up before he makes it there. 

“Okay. Shhh. Okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.” Dean cradles the back of Castiel’s head and starts walking. Castiel doesn’t know where. He doesn’t care. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

Deciding to put his trust in Dean once again, Castiel lets it all go. 

He cries until his body aches from it. 

He cries until Dean’s chest is soaked.

He cries until he’s lost his voice. 

He cries until he can’t cry anymore. 

Then he whispers, “I’m sorry,” and lets himself fall asleep in Dean’s arms, fully aware it’s probably for the last time. 

\----

Even after Castiel falls asleep, Dean can’t stop clinging to his body. He’s terrified if he lets go that he’ll never get a grip on Castiel again. That he’ll lose him forever. 

Dean’s never felt like this before. This is… he doesn’t even know. Everything is spinning out of control. 

Last night was perfect. Dean and Castiel had their first date. Their first scene in the playroom. They laughed. They fell asleep smiling. 

This morning is a fucking disaster. 

Dean’s never felt so helpless. 

He’s never felt so out of control. 

Clearly, he did something wrong. He messed up somewhere. Dean needs to figure out what the fuck happened and how he can fix it. 

Unwilling to leave Castiel alone in the room, Dean pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Charlie. He takes the risk of leaving Castiel in the bed and walking to the balcony so he doesn’t wake him up. His heart pounds as the distance between them grows. He already wants to hang up the phone and crawl back into the bed, holding Castiel for as long as possible before he wakes up and tries to push Dean away again. 

“Hey boss!” Charlie says in his ear. 

Forcing himself to focus, Dean looks away from Castiel’s sleeping form in his bed and locks his eyes on the mountains in the distance. “I fucked up.”

Charlie laughs softly. “When don’t you?” When Dean says nothing, Charlie whispers, “Shit, what happened?” 

“I don’t know.” Dean rests his arms on the balcony railing and hangs his head. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I did. Last night was - god, Char, it was everything. We scened, and he did so fucking good. He was amazing. And I - fuck, I think I love him, Char. I think I really fucking love him. He even asked if maybe we could do dom and sub 24/7. It was like a fucking dream it was so perfect.” 

“Why do I feel like there’s a huge but coming?” 

Dean laughs sardonically. “Because that’d be too easy, right? Too happy.”

"Be dramatic and pouty later. Get your shit together, Winchester and focus. What happened?"

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he tries his best to explain. “I woke up, and he wasn’t there, so I went to the kitchen. I said good morning, and I caught him off guard I think, because he paused but then he said good morning back. I mentioned that he should address me properly so he corrected himself. Then-”

“God, you can be such a dense idiotic dick, sometimes Dean Winchester.” 

“What?! What did I do?”

“You acted as if the two of you had already had the talk.”

“What talk?”

He can practically hear the dramatic eye roll Charlie gives him over the phone. “The talk, Winchester. The talk about the dynamic. The rules. When and where and how. You just woke up and expected him to know that all of a sudden he should call you sir?!” 

“Oh.” Dean slumps against the railing. He hadn’t even thought about it. It wasn’t a moment for him. It wasn't something huge. Honestly, it was meant to be sort of teasing. To test the waters. 

And Castiel had panicked right after that. He had probably thought that Dean was disappointed in him. That he had failed. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, asshole," Charlie agrees. "Fuck.” 

“He’s probably dropping.”

“Yup.” Charlie sighs. When she speaks again, her voice has softened. "Where is he?"

Dean looks over his shoulder, smiling to himself when he sees Castiel is still asleep. "Sleeping in our bed. Cried himself to sleep. Well, almost to sleep. Then he calmed enough to apologize to me and passed out."

"Did he say for what?"

"No. Just, I'm sorry." Dean rubs a hand down his face. "How did I not see it, Char?" 

"How could you? It sounds like he was fine when you went to sleep, and you only saw him for what, like a minute this morning before he broke down? You're not a psychic." 

“But I should’ve known not to do the sir thing. I should’ve-”

Charlie cuts him off. “You’ve never done this before, Dean. You’re learning. And, honestly, if he broke that fast, then he probably spent a considerable amount of time this morning spiraling in his head first. He had probably dropped before you even woke up.” 

"I should've anticipated. It's my job to take care of him and day 2 I'm already-"

"Enough," Charlie says firmly, cutting him off again. "That's enough. Be hard on yourself later. Right now, your sub is dropping, and you need to focus." 

Dean nods even though she can't see him. "What do I do?"

"Dean, you've dealt with drops before. They happen."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between dealing with a drop that my one-night stand is coping with versus _this_. Once I got them through their drops, I sent them on their way again. No possibility of fucking up. This is different. One wrong word and I can ruin everything." 

"If that's how easy it'd be to ruin everything, your relationship would be pretty shitty." Charlie pauses, then adds, "And in case you were wondering, I do _not_ believe your relationship is shitty. By any means. I think the two of you could really be something." 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “What if he never wants to play again?”

“From what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, now that that boy has a taste, he’s going to be unable to stop himself. Maybe he’ll want a break or to slow things down but that kid isn’t going to last long before he wants to play with you again.”

Dean starts to argue, saying, "I feel-" but is interrupted by a soft, raspy, "Sir?" 

He turns around to find Castiel standing in the doorway of the balcony. His arms are wrapped tight around his body like if he tries hard enough he can hold himself together. The skin around his eyes is red and puffy, and the eyes themselves are most likely bloodshot. Dean can't be sure since Castiel won't look up at him. 

"Gotta go," he says to Charlie, already walking toward Castiel. He slips his phone into his pocket just before pulling the boy into a firm but gentle hug. "Hey you." 

Castiel sniffles. "Hi." 

Just before asking him how he’s feeling, Dean stops himself. It’s an obvious answer anyway if he’s being realistic. His submissive is feeling terrible. 

He’s dropping. 

That’s a good place to start. 

“I know you’re probably feeling really awful right now. Confused and anxious, and who knows what else, but it’s normal, okay? You’re dropping. It’s something that happens to subs sometimes - it’s natural, nothing you did wrong - and it’s something that will stop, baby. It’ll get better.”

“No.” Castiel pulls away from him and puts both his hands near his face as if he wants to hide but is trying to stop himself. “No, it won’t get better. I won’t get better. I’m awful at this. I’m - I’m no good. You shouldn’t - you should pick someone else.” 

Dean exhales softly. “Cas, I didn’t pick you. You’re just… you’re _it_. Okay? This isn’t a gamble. This isn’t a ‘yeah, maybe he’ll work, let’s try it out.’ It’s - it’s unexplainable. You’re everything. Fucking everything.” 

“I can’t be.” Castiel shakes his head. “Don’t - just don’t. I’m no good. I’m damaged. My dad was ri-” Refusing to let Castiel finish that thought, Dean crushes his lips to his. Castiel startles and tries to pull away for a second before melting against him and sighing in what Dean can only believe is relief. 

“Don’t you ever-” Dean pauses, swallowing hard when he realizes he’s close to tears. “-say Chuck was right about you. You are not damaged. You are so good, Cas. God, I wish I could show you how good you are. My good boy.” Dean presses a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head, squeezing him tighter. “I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you if you’ll just let me, babe. Please - please, just let me.”

Castiel releases a shuddery breath, close to tears himself as he clings to Dean. “I’m sorry I forgot to call you sir.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and tries to push away the self-hate for now. He’ll beat the shit out of himself later regarding this. 

“That wasn’t right of me. That was my mistake, not yours, okay? I was trying to tease you and it probably didn’t come off that way, and I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, okay?”

“Y - you can’t make mistakes, though…” Castiel shifts in his arms, clearly uncomfortable. He doesn’t pull away, though. Not yet, at least. “You - whatever you do is right.” 

“What in the world makes you think that?”

“You’re the dom.”

With a soft laugh, Dean moves back until he can see Castiel’s face clearly. His blue eyes are incredibly bright against the shadows beneath them. “Some doms believe they are the end all be all. They act like they’re their sub’s god. That will never be how we are, Cas. I’m gonna make mistakes. You’re gonna make mistakes. You’ll drop. I’ll drop. We’ll probably fight about stupid shit like… I don’t even know, I’ve never been in a relationship, but they’re always fighting about taking out the trash and fucking dirty dishes on TV shows. I wanna fight about taking out the trash and dirty dishes with you.” 

Castiel scrunches his nose up, and it’s the first time in far too long that Dean catches a glimpse of happy Castiel beneath it all. “You’re like a bazillionaire with a full staff. I don’t think we gotta worry about trash and dirty dishes.” 

“Hey now, staff doesn’t come in here, remember? Don’t be shutting down my future fight inspirations.” 

“How about we just don’t fight?” 

“Deal.” Dean cups the side of Castiel’s face, dragging his thumb along his cheekbone. “Except I’m a stubborn bastard sometimes and I can be a real idiot, like this morning, so we might fight.”

Castiel nods, but it’s absent-minded. He’s focused instead on Dean’s hunter tattoo on his chest, fingers tentatively mapping it out. His hands are trembling, as well as his bottom lip. “So, I didn’t ruin everything?” 

“Not at all.” Dean flinches. “Did I?”

Castiel smiles. This one is firm. Sure. “No.” 

“You feelin’ any better?”

“I guess.” Castiel touches his tattoo again. “I feel… I dunno. What were you saying about me dropping?”

“How about I get us in a nice bath and we can talk about it then. I’ll explain what’s going on and we can talk about anything else you want to talk about. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Unsure how to start pulling Castiel from this drop, Dean relies on what he’ll do with a submissive he did a scene for. Give them small tasks to work up their confidence again, to be able to praise them, but don’t give them choices. Choices overwhelm. “Can you draw the bath for me? Use the oil in the green bottle. I’ll be in there in just a second.”

Castiel glances over at the bathroom door. “Where are you going?”

“Just to get us drinks and a snack. I promise it’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay.” Castiel fidgets in place, still not moving toward the bathroom. “Do you want me to get in, or - or kneel, or stand, or-”

“Strip down for me. Fold your clothes neatly and place them on the counter between the two sinks. I’ll be back by then, I promise.” Dean takes Castiel’s chin and tugs until he’s looking him in the eye. “Nothing has been established between us yet regarding rules, okay? You don’t have to call me sir or kneel. You don’t have to avoid eye contact. All of that, we’ll figure out in the bath together, okay?”

“Yeah,” Castiel whispers, looking away from him again. “Okay.”

Dean’s feet don’t move. Something resembling a panicked alarm is flaring in his mind, telling him not to walk out of here and leave Castiel alone. The last time he let Castiel into that bathroom for a bath without being there to supervise, Castiel hurt himself. This morning, with his current headspace, that’s a possibility again. 

“Actually, can you come with me instead? I’ll need help carrying stuff.”

Castiel perks up a little. “I can help.”

“I know you can.” Dean puts his hand out for Castiel to take and looks him in the eye. “Come.” 

Castiel licks his lips before slowly placing his hand in Dean’s. 

Dean’s never felt more relieved. There may still be a long way to go for them, but as long as Castiel is willing to stay by his side, Dean’s convinced they’ll figure it out. Starting with fixing this drop. 

Step one: Chocolate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @destiel-love-forever (:


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short one, but the next one (if I remember right, don't kill me if I'm wrong) - is super long AND has smut. I love all of you <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick definition for a word used later in the chapter: A "munch" is a social gathering of people involved in the BDSM lifestyle. They're casual & non-sexual.

Castiel lays back against Dean’s chest in the tub, allowing his eyes to close. He’s been hand-fed chocolate and given water through a bright pink bendy straw. He’s had his muscles massaged and his hair washed. The panic has begun to fade. It’s still there, the anxiety throbbing in the back of his mind with a steady _not good enough, not good enough, not good enough_, but it’s background noise. Castiel can almost ignore it now. 

Especially when Dean wraps his arms around Castiel and whispers in his ear, “You make me so goddamn happy, Castiel.” 

“You make me happy too.” Castiel smiles to himself. “Last night was pretty amazing, hey?”

“Understatement of the century.”

“I’m still sorry about this morning.”

“Shhh. Nothing to be sorry for, remember? We talked about this. You couldn’t help it.” 

Castiel nods. He understands what happened. Dean explained how drops occur and that it wasn’t his fault, it was just chemicals in his body. Something that happens to most subs at least at some point. Something that happens to a portion of subs quite often. Something Castiel doesn’t have to be ashamed of. 

He also understands that Dean shouldn’t have corrected him this morning. Dean said it was wrong of him to give in to that instinct without thinking it through. Since he’s never done something like this before, Dean didn’t realize they should talk everything out first. He didn’t realize that they'd need to take it slow. Dean’s the one that’s sorry. 

Since that doesn’t make Castiel’s guilt feel much better, he decides to just shove it away and hope when the rest of this drop stuff is taken care of the guilt will be gone too. Dean says it’s different for everyone but that Castiel should start feeling normal soon. 

Castiel hopes that’s true because even if he didn’t ruin things, he definitely put them on hold, and he hates that. He may have been nervous this morning, overthinking and doubting everything, but he had been excited too. Now, who knows when Dean will let them do anything like last night again, let alone a 24/7 dynamic? Castiel needs to get things moving. 

Deciding to test the waters, Castiel asks, "So… what now?"

"Hmmm." Dean gathers bubbles in his hands and starts spreading them along Castiel's bare stomach. "I'd like some more time, if that's okay. What we have - and what we want to have - is something I never even considered before. It was never something I wanted until you. I'd like to do some research. Talk to Charlie, and maybe some of my other friends from the community. Then you and I can talk and get things sorted out." 

Castiel tries hard not to pout. Thankfully he's facing away from Dean because he fails. "How long will that take?" 

Dean chuckles. "No more than a day or two. But don't worry, baby, I have some ideas on how to keep you busy." 

This makes Castiel smile. That sounds like fun. 

\----

It’s not fun. 

Dean’s plans for Castiel aren’t fun at all.

Once Castiel was toweled off and his hair was gently blown dry, Dean tugged a not-dirty but not-clean shirt over Castiel’s head. It fell mid-thigh and wrapped Castiel up in Dean’s heady scent. After, Castiel was told to step into a pair of boxer briefs that also belonged to Dean. Then he was ushered over to the bed and tucked in amongst a ton of pillows and blankets. 

He was handed a tablet before Dean set down a few other things around him on the mattress. Castiel frowned when he saw it all. There was a journal, a pen, a coloring book, colored pencils, a bar of chocolate, a fresh Gatorade, and the book he just started reading. When he had looked up at Dean in question, Dean just ran gentle fingers through Castiel’s curls and smiled. 

“I want you to google your heart out today, okay? Either tonight or tomorrow, I want to go over limits and expectations. I want to know what you want out of this. I already saved some sites to the home screen, but feel free to explore anything you want.” Dean winked. “There’s headphones in the table there if you want some privacy for any videos you find.”

See, doesn’t that sound like super _not_ fun? That’s why Castiel can’t help but grumble when he asks, “Privacy from who?”

“Your babysitter.” From the tone of Dean’s voice, Castiel is fully aware of how guilty Dean feels about that. “Speaking of… who do you feel more comfortable with, Benny, Ash, or Garth?” 

Castiel wrinkles his nose at the choices. “What about Charlie?”

Dean winces. “Charlie’s coming with me. It’ll only be for a little while.”

“Okay.” Castiel picks at the blanket wrapped around his stomach, not even trying to fight his pout. He even allows his bottom lip to stick out. Puppy dog eyes may or may not peek up at Dean through his lashes. “I guess Benny then.”

“Benny it is. Thank you.” Dean leans down and presses a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. Holding his lips there, he says quietly, “Really, thank you. I need this today. We need it. I promise it won’t take long.”

Castiel drops the pout a little since he understands what Dean’s intentions are. He shouldn’t guilt him for trying to help their relationship. 

Just as Dean is finished getting dressed for his… whatever you would it call it - Awakening? Informational session? Counseling? A hit upside the head? Pow-wow? Who knows? - a knock on the wing’s door draws his and Castiel’s attention. Castiel sinks further into the bed as Dean leaves to open the door for Benny. No one is supposed to come in here, at least that’s what Dean had made it sound like during the tour, and Castiel wonders if this is Benny’s first time or if being Dean’s best friend has allowed him to be in here before.

Considering Benny walks in before Dean does, clearly knowing his way, Castiel has a feeling the man has been here plenty of times. 

He’s just glad Benny was never in this bed. This is his bed. His and Dean’s. 

Castiel perks up when he sees that Benny has something in his hands, all other thoughts subsiding as his stomach grumbles. 

“Well that’s a good sign,” Dean says as he registers the sound. He’s grinning like Castiel just handed him a prize. 

“Room service.” Benny’s voice is high and accented with… some sort of accent. Whatever it is, it’s awful. He does this little waddle and places the tray on the side table closest to Castiel. “Bon appetit!” 

A laugh bursts from Castiel’s lips before he clamps a hand over his mouth. He can’t stop the smile that remains once he’s quieted himself, though. If he thought Dean looked like he was handed a prize earlier, then Benny now looks like he was handed the kind of prize given to other prizes. Castiel doesn’t know if that even makes sense, his brain is fuzzy. Point is that Benny looks absolutely thrilled. 

“Was that a French accent? Is that what that voice was?” Castiel asks before laughing again. 

“I - yes?” Benny smirks, and his cheeks turn rosy. It’s quite adorable considering the man is at least 200 pounds and way too badass to be blushing. He looks over at Dean before back at Castiel. “No? Whatever will make you not tease me about it for the rest of our lives?”

_The rest of their lives._ The best friend and the lover to Dean Winchester, together for the rest of their lives, both by his side. One protecting his body, the other protecting his heart. 

Castiel beams at the newfound certainty he feels. “Either way, you’re never living that down, so might as well just go with the truth.”

“Watch it or I’ll do my best man speech in that voice.”

“I dare you.” Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You certainly won’t be getting laid on our wedding night if you do so, though.”

The barked laughter from Dean off to the side makes Castiel smile even wider. Benny just glares at both of them before grumbling, “I hate both of you. I’m letting your asses get shot next time we’re out on the town.” 

“Awww, we love you too, Ben,” Dean says with an arm wrapped around Benny’s neck. “Don’t we, babe?”

The babe makes Dean pause, his face freezing as he stares wide-eyed at Castiel. He clearly isn’t sure if they’re still at that point together or if they’ve slid too far backwards. 

Castiel makes it clear for him. “Yes, of course we love you, Benny. Who else will provide us with decades of future entertainment, right babe?”

Dean’s eyes soften, his grin turning into a loving smile. “_Decades_ of entertainment,” he echoes, still unsure. 

“Always, right?” Castiel says quietly, trying to remind Dean of the night before. 

Dean’s throat bobs and it seems like his eyes burn. “Yes. _Always_.” 

“_Always_ indeed,” Benny says with a clap of his hands. “As in, I’ll always be here to cockblock the two of you, starting now. Stop making heart eyes at each other and get moving. Dean, go. Cas, eat. Chop chop.” 

“Yes, _mom_,” Castiel and Dean say in unison. They look at each other and burst out into laughter. 

When they hear Benny dramatically sigh and announce, “I hate both of you so much,” they just laugh harder. 

Maybe today won’t be all that terrible and boring after all. 

\----

Dean hasn’t been to a Munch in at least a year, though he feels like it’s been much more than that. He and Charlie wind their way through the three tables reserved for the gathering at the restaurant until they find the one with their friends. Ketch and Cole are too distracted by what seems like a semi-heated conversation to even notice them. 

“Uh oh, what’s going on with dom and dom-er?” Charlie grumbles.

“Charlie, no puns.” Dean puts a hand up. “Not before I’ve had a drink.”

When Dean puts his hand up to flag down a waiter, Ketch realizes they have company and cuts his argument with Cole short. Dean can’t have that. He wanted to know the latest drama. 

“Winchester,” Ketch says with a nod, mischief in his eyes like usual. 

“Ketch.” Dean nods, then claps Cole on the shoulder. “Is Ketch giving you a hard time, Cole?”

“_He’s_ giving _me_ the hard time!” Ketch defends. 

Cole just rolls his eyes and sighs. “Ketch wants to-”

“Okay, no, maybe we just shouldn’t talk about it,” Ketch suggests. 

His sudden change in mood gives him away. Dean shares a knowing smile with Charlie before turning to Ketch and asking, “So, who are you falling in love with now?”

When Ketch doesn’t meet his eye and takes a gulp of his drink, Cole fills Dean and Charlie in. “He thinks it’d be a good idea to scene with Mick next weekend.”

“Mick?” Dean’s eyebrows shoot way up. He thought he was going to be the one with the biggest, most surprising news today. Apparently not. “I think we can all agree that’s a bad idea, yeah?”

“That’s what I said.” 

Charlie sets a hard look on Ketch and declares, “Mick doesn’t do commitment, Ketch. Commitment is your middle name.”

“So?” Ketch shrugs a shoulder. “I just got out of a 6-month live-in relationship. Maybe a one night scene would be good for me.”

“Speaking of live-in relationships,” Charlie says over the rim of her cup, smirking. Everyone perks up except Dean - and they all notice that, every set of eyes falling on him. 

“Dean?” Ketch asks.

Cole follows with, “Do you have something you’d like to share?”

“Umm… what about Ketch and Mick? That’s still very important.” Dean nods as if he’s trying to get the others to nod and agree with him. None of them do so. “Ketch shouldn’t sleep with Mick! He’s a heart breaker and Ketch is finally getting happy again after-”

“We’ll deal with Ketch later,” Charlie states simply, cutting Dean off. “We have plenty of time. You do not. You have a boy to get home to.”

“Ooooooh.” Cole sits up straight and grins. “Is this the boy I heard all about from the club last night? I’m crushed that I was in a private room. I didn’t get to see him!”

“What does the future husband think of him?” Ketch asks before Dean can answer Cole. “What was that kid’s name? Castiel?”

Dean can’t help but smile just at the mention of his fiance, lover, and submissive's name. Well… hopefully submissive. “Actually, the boy is Castiel. We’ve been… trying things out.”

The entire table sits forward. 

It’s Cole who speaks first, “Tell. Us. Everything.” 

A waitress shows up just at that moment, and Dean mumbles under his breath, “Oh, thank god.” 

He orders himself a double bourbon neat and then sighs. “Okay - what was the last thing I told you guys about him?”

Ketch says, “The kiss after Ethan,” at the same time that Cole says, “When he got jealous and kissed you.”

Dean smiles to himself as he thinks of that kiss. Then he re-focuses. He thanks the waitress when she returns his drink before drinking half of it at once. They have a lot to cover. 

“Suppose I’ll start right after the kiss then.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a nice, long, kinky, smutty chapter for you all <3 Thanks for being patient (;

Castiel is just finishing a video that he probably shouldn’t have watched with Benny just a few feet away when Dean walks into the bedroom. He tugs his headphones out of his ear and turns his tablet off, hoping Dean doesn’t notice the way he’s flushed and slightly panting. From the smirk Dean gives him, he failed miserably at hiding it. 

“Benny,” Dean says in acknowledgement, his eyes not leaving Castiel as they drink him in. “Everything go okay?”

“Yup. Kid ate, made fun of me, googled shit, and watched what I’m assuming was some very nice porn.” Castiel startles, his face flooding with heat as he realizes Benny was fully aware of what Castiel had been up to. He stares down at his dark tablet, refusing to look up at either of the men in the room. He’s mortified. 

He’s painfully hard. 

“What’s he like when he watches porn?” Dean asks, making it so Castiel goes from surprised to shocked. 

Benny stands up and straightens his clothes as he gets ready to leave. Then he says - so casually Castiel’s slightly convinced he doesn’t hear him correctly - “Adorable. All red cheeks and bitten lips. I’m sure the two of you will have a fantastic night.”

The moment Benny is out of the room, Castiel turns on Dean. “What the hell was that?”

“I was curious where you sat with humiliation.” Dean closes the bedroom door before shedding his jacket and hanging it over the back of the armchair. “I think you might have a bit of a kink.”

“Why would you think _that_?” Castiel asks defensively. 

“Because from the moment you realized he had been aware the whole time you sat there watching videos of pretty boys getting fucked by their dominants, your cock got needy enough for you to rub it through the blankets. And even though your face turned beat red and your breath went uneven, there wasn’t an ounce of anxiety in your demeanor.” Dean places his hands on each side of Castiel’s body, framing him as he leans forward and rests his lips against Castiel’s ear. “Do you know what I saw instead, Castiel?”

Castiel shivers. “N-no.”

“Exhilaration. Arousal. Desire.” Dean chuckles darkly. “You may not have liked that he was watching you, but you liked that I talked about you with him. How he appraised you. How he exposed you.” 

“Wh - what if I did like it?” Castiel asks, confusion and arousal making his voice shake.

“Liked what? Being humiliated?”

“Him watching.”

Dean pauses, and Castiel closes his eyes, anticipating anger. Instead, the man groans and buries his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. “Fuck, every damn time. Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you say something like that.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not in the least.” Dean smiles, and Castiel can feel it against his skin. “But don’t get confused, Castiel. You will always belong to me. I might let people look. I might even let them touch. But you will always be _mine_. Understood?”

Castiel nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Mmmm.” Dean nuzzles him for a moment before pulling back so they can look at each other. “I believe we have a talk scheduled.”

“Can it be later?” Castiel pouts, bringing back the bottom lip and puppy dog eyes from before Dean left. He wants his way. “I missed you and I’m horny.”

“Fuck, someone's very brazen this afternoon, isn’t he?”

“Just want you.”

“Oh, you’ll get me, baby. Don’t worry about that.” Dean pushes off the bed and stands up. “When and how is the question.”

Castiel squirms. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I could certainly make you feel good now, but we haven’t had our talk yet, so it might be a little boring.” Dean licks his lips and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants. His green eyes narrow, filling with dangerous promises. “Or you can be a good boy and wait so we can talk, and we can have all the fun you want.” Dean chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “Correction - all the fun I want. It won’t be much of a choice for you now, will it?”

“Wait.” Castiel nods fast enough to feel like a bobble head. “Wait. I’ll wait. I’d like to wait. Totally waiting.” 

“Perfect. To avoid temptations, though, can we talk in the living room?”

“Are you telling me you’re suddenly a prude who won’t fuck in the living room?” 

Dean’s jaw drops but it quickly snaps into place. Then he shakes his head and smirks. “Please - seriously, I’m begging you - please keep that attitude for when I have you in our playroom.”

Though Castiel likes how Dean called it their playroom instead of just his playroom, Castiel has a feeling he does not want to keep that attitude. Not in the least. When he cowers and looks away, Dean makes a noise in the back of his throat. “That’s what I thought. Now gather your tablet and any notes you took if you decided to take some, and get your cute little bratty ass out in the living room.” 

Castiel scrambles to comply, yelping when Dean swats his ass as he passes him. He can hear Dean chuckling in that dark, sexy way of his all the way down the hall. 

\----

Dean has to hide his smile when he finds Castiel sitting on the floor of the living room, using the coffee table as a desk for his tablet and his journal. He looks very serious. Don’t get Dean wrong, that makes him incredibly happy because it’s important Castiel takes this as seriously as it truly is, but it’s still adorable as fuck. 

Then again, Dean might not be able to judge him when he sits down on the couch across from Castiel and pulls out his leather moleskin from his pocket. The boys - after giving him at least twenty minutes of total shit for being a ‘lover boy’ - actually gave him some really great advice. Between that and this discussion with Castiel, Dean feels confident they can set something up that will work for the both of them. 

It feels good to be confident again. Dean isn’t used to being so unsure of himself. Suffice to say, he hated it. 

“Shall we begin?” Dean asks once he’s settled. 

Castiel blushes from that alone and nods, not even looking at Dean. He’s focused on the pen he’s fiddling with. Dean loves that about the boy. He can be so confident and sassy, but he can also be vulnerable and embarrassed. What he loves, even more, is that Castiel shows Dean both sides. 

“Do you mind if I record this?”

“Why?” Castiel asks in confusion. 

“We’re going to cover a lot of very important things, and I’d rather be focused on having a good conversation with you than trying to write everything down.” Dean studies the worry on Castiel’s face and makes a guess as to what he’s worried about. “No one would ever hear it other than me.” 

“I know. I trust you.” Castiel shrugs a shoulder. “It’s just weird. Feels like I have an audience.”

Dean smirks. “Thought we already covered you have a kink for that?”

The look Castiel shoots him is full of heat - and not in the sexy way - but the boy is fighting back a smile too. “I hate you. Press the damn record button.” 

“My pleasure.” Dean turns the recording app on and places it down on the coffee table between them. “The first thing I’d like to go over with you is limits. That way, if any of your limits clash with some of the rules I’ve come up with, I’ll know to get rid of them before introducing them to you.” 

“Limits. Yes.” Castiel perks up, looking quite proud of himself. “I read about those.” 

Dean fills with the same pride. Such a good boy already. Castiel is a damn dream. “Did you come up with any?”

“Ummm, a couple? I had a few questions, though.” Castiel chews on his bottom lip as he flips to a page in his journal. His cheeks fill with color again, and Dean finds himself leaning slightly forward in anticipation for whatever Castiel is about to say that caused the reaction. “What is… mummification?”

“Did you search it?”

“No. That and - brown showers?” Castiel makes an adorable face. “I was too afraid to even google them.”

Dean chuckles. “Ahh, I see. Well, mummification is basically your entire body being bound. Sometimes it’s with tape or rope. Other times people wear full latex suits with a hood or body bags. Things like that.”

“Oh god, no thank you.” Castiel shakes his head. “That sounds claustrophobic.” 

Since it’s not something Dean’s ever enjoyed either, Dean doesn’t mind that at all. “Hard limit, then?”

Castiel pauses. “I… how many do I get?”

“As many as you want, Castiel.” Dean leans across the coffee table and nudges a finger under Castiel’s chin so he’ll look up at him. Then he sits back and explains, “You could have a hundred hard limits and another hundred soft. You could have literally two things you’re comfortable with. I’d still respect that and want you just as much.” 

“Oh.” A light goes off in Castiel’s eyes, and then he’s adjusting how he’s sitting and clearing his throat. “Great, so, mummification is a hard limit. Same with branding and - wait, what were brown showers again?”

“It’d be me shitting and pissing on you.”

Castiel chokes on his own spit, eyes turning into saucers. “I - I - do - w - you would-”

“I would not. It’s a hard limit of mine, so no reason to even discuss.” 

“Perfect. There’s beating on here? Is that like… beating me up? Or does it mean spanking and paddles and stuff? Because I’m cool with spanking and paddles and whatever else ya wanna use, but I don’t want you to like punch or kick me or whatever.”

Dean’s chest tightens and his stomach curls just at the mere thought of anyone doing that to Castiel - especially himself. “That won’t ever happen to you, sweet boy. Beating is a hard limit for me. I - or anyone else - will never hurt you like that. _Ever_.”

Dean realizes how angry and dark his voice has become, but when he looks at Castiel to see if it bothered him, Castiel seems turned on. “You’ll protect me,” Castiel says quietly but confidently, his pupils flashing in arousal. 

“Yes.” Dean’s head jerks in a nod. “Always.”

The two of them share a heated look before Castiel breaks out into a smile. His cheeks turn pink and he ducks his head, focusing his attention back on the tablet. “Ummm, catheterization? Yeah, hard no.”

“Okay, don’t skip around. Here. Will you look at this list for me?” Dean hands Castiel the list he has up on his phone. “That way I know that whatever you don’t say soft or hard limit to, I know you’re educated on and are good. If you’re reading off of a different list then there might be something on my list that wasn’t on yours, and there I go thinking it was okay with you when really it’s something you would have made a limit. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Castiel touches the phone screen, eyes scanning. “So… I just say what I want to limit? Whatever we don’t talk about out loud, you’ll assume is good to go?”

“Correct.”

“Okay.” Castiel starts to scroll, taking his time. He even consults his journal once to check the definition of something. Dean makes a mental note to reward him later for how good of a boy he is. “So, again, no branding or the - the - ya know, _showers_. Oh, wait, I have a question - what’s the difference between soft and hard breath play? My list just said breath play.”

“It varies. To me, soft is choking you, so you get a little fuzzy but not choking you enough to cut off all air. Hard is choking you hard enough to completely cut off your air. Often, with hard breath play, the sub will pass out, and the dom will then take their hand away and keep fucking them until the sub comes back. That, however, is something I don’t do. I don’t do hard breath play. It’s a soft limit for me. It’s too risky, but if it’s something that you really want and you feel is worth the risk to test it out, my soft limits can be tested.”

Once again, Castiel is staring at him like he’s both shocked and terrified. “Passing out? Like… fully out? And you’d just… keep going? Would you even check on me?”

The way Castiel is beginning to shake causes Dean alarm, and he immediately jumps in and cuts this subject off. “Castiel, I will never be doing that with you. Okay? It’s clear it makes you uncomfortable and it’s already a soft limit of mine, okay? And for the record - if for any reason something like that happens in a scene with us, on purpose or on accident, I would absolutely stop to check on you. Okay?”

Castiel takes a breath that hitches and shakes. “Okay.”

“How do you feel about soft breath play?”

“Ummm, we can try it?” 

“Okay.” Dean smiles. “You’re doing really well, Castiel.”

Castiel perks. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I am very proud of you for all the work you put in and how serious you’re taking this.”

“Thank you.” Castiel looks down at Dean’s phone, blushing hard enough for red to hit the tip of his ears. “Ummm… okay. Catheterization, again, is a hard limit.”

“Go in order,” Dean reminds him, raising an eyebrow. 

He has that list memorized. 

Castiel frowns before looking up at him in confusion. “I am?”

“You’re okay with caning?”

“Yes?”

“Did you google it?”

This time, it’s Castiel smirking. “Yes, Dean. I think you’ll be surprised at my pain tolerance. Though maybe you shouldn’t be.”

Images of Castiel’s cuts and scars flash in Dean’s mind and his gut turns. “Will you tell me when you need to hurt yourself, Castiel?”

“Will you hurt me instead?”

Dean sends up a prayer to whoever is listening that this is the right thing to say and not a terrible one. “Yes.”

Castiel stares at him for a moment, unblinking. Then he says quietly, “Then I’ll tell you.”

“Good.” 

“Good.” Castiel looks down at the phone. “Yes. Good. Ummm… yeah. Okay. Well, cutting-”

“Hard limit for me,” Dean says, giving Castiel a look that he hopes conveys how serious he is about that. 

Castiel nodded. “I was gonna say the same anyway. It feels… wrong. I associate it with so much bad, ya know?”

“I know.” Dean sinks to the floor and rests his elbows on the coffee table. He needs to be closer to his boy. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“You’re welcome.” Castiel fidgets with the phone. “There’s actually a lot in a row coming up.”

“Okay.”

“Dilation, electric play, enemas, exhibitionism, face slapping, fantasy rape, fire play, and fisting - all a no.”

Dean’s stomach sinks. “Okay… are any of them soft?”

Castiel bites down on his bottom lip and considers this, his eyes scanning the list again. “Maybe?”

“Electric play can be very nice in small doses. How much did you look into that?”

“Not at all…” Castiel shrugs. “It felt self-explanatory.”

“I really enjoy working with violet wands. Can we look into that together - not in the playroom, but through videos and research - and then you decide if maybe you’d be willing to make it a soft limit?”

Castiel smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Hoping he’s not pushing his luck, Dean continues. “I think you’d maybe like exhibitionism as well.”

“No. I don’t want anyone else having sex with me.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Woah, woah, woah. No. That’s not what exhibitionism is.”

“It’s public sex, isn’t it?”

“It’s sex in public, but not sex with the public. And in our scenario, it would be something like a small scene at the club - like with that submissive that was suspended. You enjoyed watching that, right?” Castiel nods, his cheeks burning at the memory. “Don’t you think it’d be hot for that to be you in the ropes?”

Castiel squirms and Dean has his answer. “Okay.”

“Okay. So we can add it to your soft limits?”

“Um, well, no.” Castiel ducks his head. “I think I’d like it actually. Like… maybe… a lot. Sorry. I should have looked into it more.”

“Perfectly fine, babe. That’s why we’re talking.”

Castiel doesn’t answer. He just sits where he is, picking at the corner of his journal. 

Before the boy can start beating himself up, Dean makes an executive decision. “Come sit with me. Bring your journal and my phone.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone hop up so fast. Dean’s shocked Castiel didn’t face plant. He barely has enough time to get comfortable on the couch again before his lap is full, Castiel’s head tucking under his chin as the cutie nuzzles him. “I needed this,” he admits with a sigh. 

“I know. I did too, baby.” Dean kisses his temple. “We can continue now. Unless you need a break?”

“No. I’m perfect.” Castiel turns his phone screen back on since it went black and wiggles a little to get more comfortable. When he feels Dean harden beneath him, the little shit smiles in triumph. Then he makes a face. “Please tell me you aren’t into foot worship. I’m not kink shaming, I swear, but just-”

“Not for me, no.”

“Oh, thank god. Great. Hard limit. Feet are just… ew. No.” 

Dean laughs. It feels really good to do so. It feels like they’ve done a 180 since this morning and it’s such a relief he could cry. 

“Given away and golden showers are hard too.”

“Absolutely,” Dean agrees. 

It’s time to scroll to the next page in the PDF, but Castiel pauses. It takes him a long time, but Dean doesn’t push. He waits patiently, stroking steady circles on the outside of Castiel’s thigh. 

When Castiel speaks, it’s not at all what Dean expected. 

“If exhibitionism isn’t what I thought it was, then… what’s fantasy rape? Is that… is that not a stranger doing it to me? Like, you giving them permission or whatever?”

“Oh, babe, no no no. Not at all.” Dean shifts Castiel in his lap so they’re face to face, Castiel’s legs on either side of him as he settles back down in Dean’s lap. He cups the boys cheeks and looks him in the eyes. “something like that would only ever be us baby."

Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip, a tell Dean is starting to pick up on. “So fantasy rape then… it’s…?”

“Can be a few things. It could be me catching you by surprise somewhere and you fighting me and pretending the whole time it’s not consensual. It could be me putting you in the playroom, and then once the scene starts, you pretend to withdraw consent. It could be pretending that I’m a stranger, and you don’t want it. It could be a different dynamic we come up with, or I come up with if you’d like to be surprised.” 

“Pretend to withdraw consent… so does that mean I’d still have my safeword?”

“Yes. There will never be a situation in your life where you do not have that safeword, baby.”

“Okay.”

Dean holds his breath and tilts his head. When Castiel says nothing, he asks slowly, “Okaaaay as in… you’d like to try… fantasy rape?”

The boy flushes red once again, his teeth on his bottom lip. 

Dean knows the answer already, and his mind is going wild. 

“Is that okay… if I wanted to try it?”

“More than.” Dean tries to reel in his mind. Now isn’t the time to worry about that. Now’s the time to focus on the task at hand. They’ll have to have an entire conversation about it anyway before Dean will feel comfortable doing that scene. It’s very intense. 

“I’m pretty good with all the H’s. Not sure how I’d feel about heel worship, but I’m assuming you don’t wear heels.”

Dean chuckles. “Nope. Don’t have the legs for ‘em.”

“Well, perfect then.” Castiel winks at him, more playful now. “But I like your legs.” 

“Not as nice as yours. Maybe you should wear some heels for me.”

“Not happening.” Castiel doesn’t get flustered or squirmy. He doesn’t even bat an eye. Dean makes a note that heels are definitely not a kink for the boy. No problem for him. “No to infantilism. Or injections. Like, absolutely not to injections. Do not inject me with anything, understood?” 

Dean doesn’t laugh or even smile, because Castiel isn’t. “Understood, Cas.”

“Okay. I dunno why interrogation is a thing, but I guess it’s a soft limit if you’d like to try that? And is kidnapping basically like the rape thing?”

“Sort of. It’d basically be the scenario of me catching you by surprise and dragging you off to do it.”

“Okay.” Castiel scrolls on the phone, but he’s looking drained. 

Dean strokes a hand through Castiel’s curls. “Do you want a break?”

“Hell no. We’re almost done. I was promised fun after this.” Castiel arches an eyebrow at him. It’s a very good impression of a ‘dom brow.’ Dean’s extremely amused, and Castiel’s not happy when Dean smiles. “Medical scenes are a soft limit. I’d want to know more about it, I think. Oh, what level would you bring orgasm control and denial? Some said it was just edging like we did, but other websites talked about chastity and showed these weird cage things?”

“I consider chastity a separate kink, but since it’s surprisingly not on this list, we can discuss both. Orgasm control and denial is just me prolonging your release during our scene. Making you wait. Bringing you to the edge before pulling you back. Then doing it again. It can also be referred to as edging. I enjoy edging very much, so if you’re comfortable with it, you’ll deal with it a lot. Complete denial will only ever be for a punishment. Now, chastity, for me, is putting you in a device for longer than one scene.”

“Is that something you like?”

The question takes Dean by surprise. Not because he’s shocked Castiel is curious about it, but because he’s honestly never thought about it. At all. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never had a sub so I’ve never done it. I’ve never even considered it.”

Now he is, though. He’s picturing his pretty little twink naked and caged, desperate after a week of his cock being deprived of touch. Castiel grinds down against him and grins. “I’ll take your cock trying to get inside me through our clothes as a sign that you’re considering it, and you’re liking it.”

Dean smiles mischievously. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Me too. But… soft limit. It seems kind of overwhelming.”

“Soft limit to all of it, or just to chastity?”

“Just chastity.” Castiel blushes, looking away. “I liked the… edging.”

“Good. So did I.”

“Great.” Castiel perks up and does a tiny happy dance. “We’re almost done! Pony play - or any animal play - I don’t think I’d like, but I’ll make it a soft limit. Scat is a hard limit. Sounding is - it’s part of the chastity thing, right?”

“It can be. It can also be used for bladder control, or just for sexual stimulation.”

Castiel gives Dean a long, hard look as if his opinion on this matter is written on Dean’s forehead. “Soft limit,” he finally declares before moving on. 

“Serving as furniture sounds…” when Castiel trails off and bites his bottom lip, Dean laughs. 

“It sounds humiliating, doesn’t it?” Dean tightens his grip on Castiel’s ass and pushes up against him. “Something you keep pretending you don’t find hot.”

Castiel just shoots him a dirty look. “Soft limit. Straight jackets are a hard limit. I don’t think tickling would do anything for me besides make me laugh, but it’s a soft limit if you want it.”

“I don’t plan on tickling you, but sounds good.”

“Great.” Castiel tosses Dean’s phone on the cushion beside them and grins. “All done.”

They aren’t. 

Not by a long shot. 

But Castiel certainly deserves a reward after that. 

“We still need to discuss the dynamics of us doing this outside of the playroom, but that can be put off. I talked with some people today, and they agreed with me that it shouldn’t be something that happens quickly. My plan is to slowly introduce things to you. Like, for example, tonight, I plan on hand feeding you your dinner while you kneel for me.” 

Castiel seems to relax in his arms, something that slightly surprises Dean because he didn’t think the boy was tense at all. Apparently, there had still been that little bit of tension in him. What Dean just said relieved him of it. 

Slow it is. 

Dean will go as slow as a damn snail if that’s what it takes. 

“Are you ready for your reward for being such a good boy for me today?”

Castiel sucks in a hitched breath and nods. “Yes, sir.” 

Dean groans, his eyes falling shut. He might need to gather himself a bit. It’s probably for the best since he needs to replenish the aftercare kit first anyway. 

“I’d like you to go into the playroom, strip and place your clothes where I showed you - neatly - and kneel for me. Keep your eyes on the ground, mouth shut, until told otherwise. I’ll be there soon.”

Castiel pauses long enough for Dean to open his eyes. “Are you gonna put the bluetooth thingy in your ear?” 

This boy melts his damn heart. So vulnerable and afraid, yet so willing to trust and try new things. “Yes, baby. Why don’t you come with me while I grab it and turn it on, that way you know when you get inside it’s already there?”

Instead of standing to let Dean up so they can go to the room, Castiel stays in his lap. He’s staring at him with something in his eyes that Dean can’t figure out. “What?”

“I just-” Castiel places a hand over Dean’s heart, and Dean’s breath catches in his chest. “Thank you for being like this.”

Dean surges forward and kisses Castiel until the boy is panting. Then he pulls away and presses his forehead to Castiel’s. “I couldn’t imagine being any other way with you. You’re my whole world, Cas. Never doubt that.” 

“I won’t.”

\-----

By the time sir enters the playroom, Castiel feels like live wires are connected to every cell of his body. He’s shivering in anticipation, goosebumps erupting on his flesh. Every breath is shallow and shaky. His cock, heavy and aching already, is dripping against his thigh. 

What makes things worse is that sir doesn't acknowledge him. At all. He just strolls into the playroom, right past Castiel, and begins doing things Castiel can’t see. It takes all of Castiel’s self-control to not look up and investigate. He knows exactly why sir doesn’t want him to do that. It’s bringing the anticipation to impossibly new heights. Every time sir shifts or breathes or makes the tiniest of noises, Castiel wants to jump out of his skin. 

Castiel has to bite the tip of his tongue not to snap at him to get on with it. 

It might be hours, it might be minutes, Castiel doesn’t know. Eventually, though, sir makes his way over to him. The man above chuckles darkly as he assesses him. Castiel can’t imagine how he must look. So worked up and desperate already. Pathetic. 

His cheeks burn in humiliation while his cock bobs. 

A week ago, Castiel had never done more than kiss a boy. Now he’s naked and kneeling for one of the most dangerous men in the city, turned on by his own sluttiness. 

Gabe would be so proud. 

Okay, ew. Castiel shakes his head softly, shoving Gabe out of his mind. Not here. Not in the playroom. Gross. 

“What are you shaking your head about down there?” sir asks in a low, almost threatening voice. “You sayin’ no to somethin’?”

The question isn’t concerned. It’s not genuine. It’s a _taunt_. A chance for sir to remind Castiel that he doesn’t get to say no. 

Castiel finds himself wondering if anyone has come before just by being _close _to someone. Just from hearing their voice. Just from being embarrassed and worked up. 

“I spoke to you, boy,” sir growls as his hand finds its way into Castiel’s hair and grips it tight. He yanks hard enough to bring tears to Castiel’s eyes, moving his head until they’re looking at each other. Sir is angry, danger lurking in the dark corners of his green eyes. His lips are tilted in a mocking, spiteful smirk. Castiel’s never seen something more beautiful in all of his life. “You askin’ for a spanking already?”

“No, sir,” Castiel whispers in a strangled voice. “No spanking, please.”

“Mmm. No spanking, perhaps, but don’t you worry. Your ass will still be red by the end of this.” Sir chuckles, his hand remaining tight in Castiel’s curls. “I’m going to use you as my little test subject today. How does that sound, boy?”

Castiel gulps. “T-test subject, sir?”

“Mhm. I’m feeling experimental.” Dean goes down on a knee so their faces are just inches apart. “I'm gonna see how long it takes before you fall apart. Push your limits. Test you. Can you do that for me, Castiel? Can you be a good boy and let me push you?”

Castiel accidentally whimpers. “Limits, sir?”

Dean’s eyes soften. He returns to the man he always is outside of this room, shedding _sir _for a moment. “I’d like to push one soft limit on you today, baby. Just one. Would you be willing to let me?”

“Which one, sir?”

“Soft breath play. Just a few seconds, light pressure. May I show you right now?” When Castiel cautiously nods, Dean reaches out a hand and wraps his fingers around Castiel’s throat. He leans forward, his other hand cradling the back of Castiel’s head to stabilize him. Lips rest against his forehead in a comforting kiss, and Castiel can’t help but relax in Dean’s hold. 

It’s only then, when his muscles are relaxed and his breaths are coming in slow and steady, that Dean starts to tighten his grip. At first, all Castiel can feel is the press of fingers against his skin, just as he would if Dean was holding onto his wrists or hips. It’s just a moment, though. Then other things begin to happen. 

There’s a fuzzy sound that fills his ears, like the wind before a storm as it whips through the warm summer air. A tingling begins between his eyes and behind his nose. The perfect image of Dean in front of him gently shakes, going in and out of focus. Then the pressure is gone, Dean sitting back on his haunches and looking at Castiel with so much vulnerability that Castiel wants to wrap him up in a hug. 

“So?” Dean asks in a whisper.

“Yes.” Castiel smiles, hoping Dean can see that Castiel is not at all conflicted over this anymore. “I’d like to try more of that with you, sir. I trust you.”

Love and joy flashes in Dean’s eyes. It’s quick, Castiel would have missed it if he had blinked, then it’s gone. Dean stands up. Takes a step back. He lowers his chin and narrows his eyes, and sir is back in place. Castiel shudders under sir’s watchful gaze, excitedly-nervous about what will happen next. 

Thankfully, he’s not made to wait long. 

“Bend over.” 

Castiel hesitates, unsure what he should be bending over. He’s already sitting on the ground. 

Dean’s apparently impatient because he quickly grabs Castiel by the hips and pulls him up before pushing him forward. His face is held against the floor, his sweaty cheek sticky against the wood, as his ass is lifted high. “Whenever you’re told to bend over, I want to see your ass. It doesn’t matter if it’s pretty. Your arms don’t have to be in a certain position or anything like that. When I tell you to bend over, I want your needy little hole on display for me. No hesitation. The rest does not matter.”

He yelps when something hard comes down against his left ass cheek. There’s no time in between that and the next hit, the second one hitting his right ass cheek. When sir grabs a fistful of his hair to look at him, Castiel is struck with a white-hot surge of anger. 

“You didn’t have to spank me,” Castiel sneers. “Not my fault you never explained what to do.”

“Excuse me?” Sir asks in a startlingly calm voice. 

“You didn’t have to spank me,” Castiel repeats before adding an extremely sarcastic, “_Sir_.”

The way sir’s eyes darken should scare the shit out of Castiel, but it doesn’t. It sends a rush up his spine instead. 

“Keep it up, brat,” sir growls as he lifts his palm. Castiel flinches, but nothing comes. He relaxes, figuring sir was just adjusting someth-

“Ah! Fuck!” Castiel yells when a hand comes down on his ass much harder than it did the last two times. “Shit!”

“Such language.”

“What, head of the Hunters is a prude now?”

The chuckle that comes from sir’s throat is low and dangerous. “Someone’s not gonna come tonight.”

Castiel’s body locks up. Shit. No. That’s not what he wanted! 

“Please, sir, no!” He shakes his head, lifting his ass. “Just - just - you can spank me, sir. I’ll make it up to you. Please!”

Sir scoffs. “You’ll have to do better than that but you’re damn right you’ll make it up to me. Don’t you worry about that.”

“I-”

“Shut the fuck up and hold the fuck still or this is going to get much worse for you, boy.” 

That same sick mixture of hating but loving this that Castiel experienced before is back, but he doesn’t have time to ponder it. He doesn’t have time to be confused. Not when sir starts to hit his ass so fast and hard Castiel is unable to keep track. By the time sir stops, Castiel has tears in his eyes and he’s panting. He won’t cry though. He’s too stubborn and he wants to earn back an orgasm. 

Unfortunately, just that round of spanking made Castiel ready to break into a million pieces. He’s doomed. He won’t last much longer at all. 

“Next time, I think you’ll remember what I want to see when you’re ordered to bend over, hmm?”

Castiel hiccups around a hitched breath and nods, remembering he was told not to speak. 

At least Dean is panting too. He’s out of breath, cheeks flushed as he stares down at Castiel with eyes blown wide with lust. “Color?”

“Green, sir.”

“Good. Very good.” A molded leather blindfold is quickly secured around Castiel’s head without any warning. It’s lined on the inside with something incredibly soft and the suede straps tickle the tips of his ears. Something goes around his neck next. When Castiel accidentally flinches, expecting his airway to be restricted again, sir mutters from above, “Just your collar. This here makes you mine.” 

Castiel shivers, making sir chuckle. “Do you like that, boy? Do you like the idea of being mine?”

Nodding, Castiel says, “Yes sir. So much, sir. Yours. All yours.”

“Yes. _Mine_.” A hand runs through his hair, surprisingly soft considering the growly sound of sir’s voice. “Every time you feel anxious during this, any time you feel lonely, any time you feel overwhelmed - I want you to feel this. This right here, pressed against your skin. Let it ground you. Let it remind you that you belong to me and that I will always - always, Castiel - take care of you. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel breathes out a sigh of relief that he feels like he’s been holding for a lifetime. He can’t stop the small hum of pleasure that escapes him. He leans in the direction he thinks Dean is in and whispers, “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Something that feels like a finger is dragged along Castiel’s bottom lip. “Now hush. You may make whatever sounds you’d like, I love hearing you fall apart for me, but there’s no reason for you to talk. Nod if you understand.” 

Wanting to be good for Dean, Castiel nods quickly. 

Instead of giving more instructions, sir just picks Castiel up like he weighs nothing and starts to carry him. It’s an uncomfortable feeling with the blindfold on. Reminiscent of a freefall. His stomach flips as he waits to be dropped at any second. He’s disoriented, unsure where in the playroom they could be. Unsure if they’re in the playroom at all. 

But Castiel trusts sir. 

He trusts him completely. 

Sir won’t let anything bad happen to him. Sir will take care of him. _Always_. 

Castiel relaxes into sir’s hold and breathes a sigh of relief. Sir makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and murmurs, “Good boy,” before setting Castiel down on… something. It feels similar to the barrel-shaped leather thing that Castiel had sat on when he was exploring the playroom. He becomes almost positive that’s what he’s been put on when what feels like cuffs are placed around his wrists and ankles, his front pressed against the leather padding, so his ass is on display. 

Since he wasn't told he_ couldn't,_ Castiel tests his bindings. There's no room to budge. He freezes when he feels sir's breath against his right ear. "Does it scare you that I could do anything to you right now?"

Castiel whimpers before quickly shaking his head _no. _He trusts sir. 

Well, and he’s stubborn. He’s not sure if he’d admit it right now anyway, orgasm on the line or not. Sir's laugh is mocking as he pulls away, as if he knows.

“Maybe you should be.” The words are spoken from far away and Castiel aches for his sir to come back. He tries to figure out where sir went but can't orient himself. It doesn't help that he can barely hear anything over his pounding heartbeat in his ears. 

Out of nowhere, a hand grabs a fistful of Castiel's hair and tugs painfully. Castiel is unable to do anything but move his face where it's directed. Not that he minds that. There’s something so damn _comforting _in being under complete control. 

"All trussed up and helpless, just begging me to ruin you." Sir scoffs. "Are you my little slut, angel?" 

Castiel shivers and nods. He doesn't care that it's humiliating. He doesn't care that he's inexperienced and clueless. He doesn't care that he probably looks pathetic and needy. 

He _wants _to be sir's slut. 

Castiel will do anything to prove that. Hell, he wants that more than he wants his orgasm. Not by much… he’s still human after all, but enough. 

"Tell me," sir growls, his hand pulling at Castiel's hair. "Tell me what you are." 

"S-sir's slut," Castiel rasps, his voice rough.

The moan his response pulls from sir is like a prize. Castiel wants more. 

"Let me show you, sir."

"Show me what?" Sir asks, his voice more wrecked than Castiel's. 

"That I'm your slut." Castiel pushes his head against sir's hand in an attempt to connect with his dom. "I can be really good at it, sir. Let me show you how good of a slut I can be."

"Mmm." Sir repositions Castiel's head, then hooks a finger into his mouth and pulls at his bottom lip. "Then show me, slut. Prove it." 

With Castiel's next inhale comes sir's cock. It's thick and heavy and tastes amazing. All of his senses boil down to this. To _sir_. The taste. The texture. The smell. It’s like being wrapped up in him. Castiel’s eye roll behind the blindfold as he begins to suck. He thinks there's a good chance he somehow died and went to heaven.

Then a hand slaps against Castiel’s cheek. Not hard at all, more just surprising. He gasps, and sir’s cock falls from his mouth. “You weren’t given permission to suck, boy.”

Castiel deflates. “Sorry, sir.”

“You didn’t know better. You’ll know next time.” Sir runs his thumb along Castiel’s now spit-soaked bottom lip. It’s so gentle, but then, in a voice thick with angry humor, sir says, “Besides, I already gave you one unwarranted spanking today, haven’t I?”

It’s a test. Sir is baiting him. Castiel decides that it’s best not to take it, staying quiet. If the noise sir makes is any indication, he’s pleased with Castiel’s silence. 

“From now on, unless I explicitly tell you to suck, you will only keep me warm,” Sir explains, his voice gentle again. “Like this.”

Sir pushes back into Castiel’s mouth, stopping when the head of his cock is settled on the center of Castiel’s tongue. Castiel hums to show sir he’s pleased to be given a second chance but makes damn sure his entire body stays perfectly still - especially his mouth. 

“Good boy. Just like that.” Sir pets his hair, and Castiel allows a small shiver to run up his spine. This is so… nice. Better than nice. He could do this all day long. Just hold him like this in his mouth. Castiel wonders if sir will ever let him do that. Maybe as a reward? Just sit in his office and keep his cock warm while he works? 

Castiel moans at the thought. 

“What’re you makin’ those noises for, hmm?” Sir pulls out, leaving the tip of his cock against Castiel’s lips. He starts to trace them in a motion similar to putting on chapstick, and it’s degrading but hot and Castiel doesn’t know what to make of that. “Tell me, boy. What are you thinking? What’s got you so worked up again?”

Forgetting that sir’s cock is in the way, Castiel licks his lips out of instinct. The tip of his tongue catches against the velvety, hard member. He and sir moan at the same time. “I like this, sir.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I-” Castiel pauses, feeling his cheeks turn red. Will sir laugh at him? Or worse… will sir tell him no? Because now that he came up with the idea, he can’t stop thinking about it. Imagining it. He-

“Caaastiiel,” sir says in a sing-songy voice that holds a twinge of impatience. 

“Sorry, sir. Just – I – I like keeping you warm… I guess? Gives me the same feeling I get when we cuddle or you give me a hug. That… fuzzy feeling.” Castiel tries to turn his head away, but sir’s grip on him doesn’t allow for it. “It’s stupid, sir. I know.”

Sir releases a sort of incredulous puff of air. “Stupid? That is _not _stupid.”

“But-”

“What else do you like?” Castiel squeezes his eyes shut beneath the blindfold as if he can escape him. Escape the question. “If you tell me, I’ll let you suck my cock.”

“Sir,” Castiel groans, nodding his head without meaning to. “I like that it smells like you. I like how it tastes. I like the weight of it. It’s like… like - I don’t _know_.”

“It grounds you.”

Castiel makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Yes. Yes, that’s - yes, sir. Grounds me. And - and I know you like it and I like pleasing you. I could just…”

“Go on.” Sir pushes his cock just past Castiel’s bottom lip. It’s enough to tease him, to remind him of the promise of more if he continues, but not too much where Castiel can’t talk. 

“I could do this all day, sir. I’d – I’d love it. You could just put me under your desk and just – just use my mouth to keep you warm, sir.” Feeling his cheeks go hot, Castiel tries to look away again. He’s stopped by sir’s cock shoving into his mouth. It goes in further than before and Castiel feels the tickle of an oncoming gag at the back of his throat, but then sir is petting him and whispering encouragements, telling him to relax, and once he listens, he realizes sir isn’t that far inside him. It was more of a knee-jerk panic than anything. Castiel can breathe fine. He can hold him on his tongue without choking or even gagging. 

Castiel sags once again, letting the moment consume him. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s a good boy.” Sir slightly thrusts forward before pulling back. The movement is minute but Castiel can feel the drag on his tongue. Sir starts to stroke Castiel’s curls at the same pace as his cock moves, and it’s like Castiel is being praised and cared for both inside and out. “Worship it. Worship sir’s cock. Show him how badly you want to suck it.”

Unsure of what he’s being asked to do - if it’s more than warming but less than sucking, what the hell is even left? - Castiel just holds sir on his tongue for a moment. Then, tentatively, he rolls sir in his mouth. He’s gentle, making sure not to suck, only twisting his tongue, and sir must accept this because he doesn’t scold Castiel. Instead, he just moans. 

Castiel takes that as a good sign to continue. At first it’s just rolling his tongue, but then he begins to lick. Sometimes it’s long stripes. Sometimes little kitten licks. Whenever his tongue gets tired, Castiel resorts to kissing sir’s cock. Only for a few seconds. Then he’ll go back to licking it. There’s a spot he hits from time to time that makes sir choke and he wishes his blindfold was off so he could see where it is. So he can remember it for later. Hopefully he’ll get another shot at this. He can figure it out then. 

He gets… _enthusiastic_, to say the least. Every sound he draws from sir makes him want more. More, more, more. Those sounds are because of _him_. _He’s _making sir feel good. _Him_. _Castiel_. No one else. 

With one of those choking noises Castiel loves drawing from him, sir yanks Castiel off his cock using a tight hand in his hair. Castiel is left with part of his chest off the furniture beneath him, as well as his neck and head. He’s being held at an awkward angle, his neck aching, and there’s spit dripping down his chin. 

He doesn’t care. Not about any of it. All he cares about is _sir_. 

“Good boy. Such a good boy.” Something slides along Castiel’s lips and it takes him a moment to realize what it is. He startles, then pushes forward like a damn puppy chasing a treat. Sir is kind enough to help him out, guiding Castiel until their mouths are together. Then sir holds him still and just… takes. It’s sloppy and heated and Castiel can barely even breathe, but he doesn’t care about that either. Not an ounce. 

All Castiel cares about - the second sir’s mouth leaves his - is, “Can I suck your cock now, sir?”

Sir chuckles. “I suppose you earned it, hmm?”

“Yes! Sir, please! I was - I was good.” Castiel tenses. “I - I was good, right, sir?”

“You were perfect, sweetheart. So very perfect.” 

When sir’s cock is placed back on Castiel’s tongue, Castiel turns greedy. He sucks on it like he’s fucking starving and this is all he has to survive on. 

This is when Castiel realizes he’s not a very good slut at all. He barely lasts five seconds before he’s gagging and pulling away in a panic, spit spluttering. He feels awful and defeated. This was his reward and he ruined it! 

Tears spring to his eyes beneath the blindfold. He parts his lips, intending to apologize, but sir just slides his cock back in, holding his hair in a vice-like grip to keep him from moving away again. 

"Shhh," sir whispers, his tone gentle and caring. Castiel tries to push forward, wanting to prove himself, but sir keeps Castiel's head firmly in place. "Slow down. No need to rush. Let yourself enjoy it. You like it, angel, don’t you?" 

Castiel hums in agreement, his tongue and mouth working in unison. Now that he's not worried about trying to get as much of it in his mouth as he can, Castiel allows himself to relax. To _appreciate. _If he thought this was good before, it’s fucking better now. 

Castiel’s positive he won’t survive sex. No fucking way. He’s about to break apart just from a damn blowjob. 

"That's it. Such a good boy." Sir slightly pushes further into Castiel's mouth. "My eager little slut just couldn't help himself, could he? Had to gag himself on sir's cock right away because he was _so _desperate for it." 

Sir pulls away a bit, then pushes back in. Castiel suckles on his head and swirls his tongue the best he can, trying to give attention to every available inch. 

"Mmmm. You were wrong. You _aren't _sir's slut." Castiel whines in protest, but sir just ignores him, beginning to set a steady pace of slowly moving in and out of Castiel's eager mouth. "You're sir's greedy little _cock whore_."

Castiel moans at the dirty words, nodding his head. Sir must like the vibrations or the movement of him nodding because sir swears under his breath and picks up his pace. 

"That's it," sir growls, pushing in further. "Take it, little angel." 

When Castiel accidentally gags again, sir slows down but he doesn't pull away. His hand relaxes in Castiel's hair, fingers carding through his curls in a soothing gesture. "Breathe through your nose, baby. Relax your muscles. That's it. Just relax. Just let sir use you. No need to overthink. No need to worry. Let everything go. Sir knows what you need, isn't that right, angel?" 

Castiel sobs in relief, the sound caught by sir's cock. He needs that. He needs it so damn bad. And sir knows. He always just _knows. _

"Yeah," sir coos, continuing to stroke his hair as his cock pushes further and faster into Castiel's mouth. Castiel breathes through his nose. Relaxes his muscles. Gives up all control. "I'll take such good care of you, baby. Never let anything happen to my sweet boy. To my dirty little cock whore. So good for me. Always so fucking good."

Sir's cock brushes the back of Castiel's throat, making Castiel gag. He doesn’t pull back, though, and Castiel calms after a second or two. Sir pushes further, chuckling softly under his breath when Castiel tries to pull away. His grip tightens in Castiel’s hair until Castiel isn’t sure if he’s crying from the rough blowjob or the pain in his scalp. 

“I could do breath play like this, ya know,” sir says in a strangled voice. “Stuff your throat so full of my cock you can’t breathe. Shove your face right up against my pubes. Not let you breathe until I feel like it.”

Castiel moans. He thinks he’d like that. He thinks he’d like that a lot. 

“Perhaps another time,” sir muses, starting to pull out of Castiel’s mouth. 

When sir’s cock is taken away from him, Castiel cries out in despair. He tries to chase it, but it’s nowhere nearby. Sir isn’t, either. He can feel it in the air. There’s no longer the heat of his presence radiating against Castiel’s bare skin. 

Castiel tries not to panic. 

He twists his neck to make the leather collar rub against his skin, using it to ground himself like sir told him to. He focuses solely on that sensation as he reminds himself that sir would never abandon him. Would never do anything to hurt him. 

Castiel doesn’t know how long he stays there alone, his mind drifting, his senses pinpointed to leather and skin. Then sir’s hand is on him again, starting at his left shoulder and slowly making its way down to his ass cheek. It’s soothing. Steady. Castiel hadn’t realized he was tense before but from the way he melts under sir’s touch, he must have been. “You’re so _good _for me, you know that?”

Before Castiel can argue - because he’s not, there’s no way he’s anywhere near good enough for sir - sir is talking again, dragging his hand up the right side of Castiel’s body. “I saw you just now. Saw the panic in your body. But you did so _well _for me. I’m so very _proud _of you. How did you do it? How did you keep calm for sir?”

“My collar, sir.” Castiel licks his lips, missing sir’s cock against them. “It means I’m yours and - and I trust you to take care of me. You promised. Always.”

The silence that follows is terrifying. Castiel wonders what he said wrong, panic welling up in his chest, but then sir whispers in a low, cracked voice, “Yes. Always.”

“I’ll take care of you too, sir… if you’ll let me?”

“You are, sweetheart. You’re taking care of sir right now. Just by existing.”

“R-really, sir?”

“Really.”

Bubbles seem to fizzle beneath every inch of Castiel’s skin. “Thank you, sir.”

“Thank _you_, Castiel.” He feels sir’s lips skate across his temple. “Thank you so much for being my boy.” 

“Sir,” Castiel whispers, unsure what to say. 

“Hush now.” Sir’s hands grab his ass cheeks and spread him apart, putting his hole on display. Castiel buries his face against his arm to hide how hard he blushes. He’s never felt so exposed. It’s dirty. Slutty. Wrong.

He fucking loves it. 

“What to do to my slutty little hole first, hmm?” 

“Ple-”

“No talking.” Sir swats his ass hard enough to make Castiel yelp. “I wasn’t asking your opinion, boy. Merely musing. You’re just a toy right now. Something here for my entertainment. Do you think I talk to my toys, Castiel? Do you think I ask them their opinion?”

Considering the whole point of this conversation is Castiel _not _talking, Castiel remains silent. Sir hums in approval. “Good boy. Don’t worry, when I want your pretty little mouth to speak, you’ll know it.”

Trusting sir, Castiel sinks down into his bonds and tries to relax. He focuses instead on what’s going to happen to him, wondering what sir could have meant by ‘test subject.’ Will he be testing his obedience? Testing techniques? Testing toys? Testing… whatever the hell else there is to test when it comes to this sort of thing? 

“You’re thinking loud enough for me to hear you all the way over here,” sir says from far away. Castiel turns his head to the left, where sir’s voice is. He’s unsure what to say. He’s unsure if that means he’s in trouble. “Let’s see if this helps you relax.”

\---- 

  


If Dean brought Castiel to the club tonight and told everyone he was an experienced, trained sub, he’d be able to trick many of them. The boy is just such a fucking _natural_. It’s intoxicating, watching him bloom beneath Dean’s hand. He energizes, more life in him than ever before, but he also relaxes. A weight lifts from him, a weight he trusts Dean to carry, and that honor means more to him than the world. 

It’s Dean’s goal to make Castiel feel like this as often as possible. The fact that Castiel wants to do this more often? Possibly 24/7? Sure… there’s a lot to talk about but if they could make it work, Dean thinks it’d be amazing. 

It’d be everything. 

Dean turns back to look at his boy that’s strapped to the spanking bench across the room. He frowns when he sees that Castiel’s muscles are taut again, and he’s breathing hard. The wheels in his mind are turning so fast Dean swears he can hear them grinding in the open air of the playroom. Whether his boy is panicking or curious or just excited, it doesn’t matter. Dean’s supposed to take everything away for him. To shut his mind off. 

Dean looks back at the drawer of toys he had been planning to use before closing it. He opens the chest beside it again, pulling upward so the two inner shelves pop out. His fingers twitch as he hovers his hand over the options. 

“You’re thinking loud enough for me to hear you all the way over here,” he yells over his shoulder, wanting Castiel to understand why the plans have changed. Dean sees the last item on the right and smirks. It’ll be perfect. “Let’s see if this helps you relax.”

As he probably should have predicted, the second Castiel can sense him coming close he’s asking, “Did I do somethin’ wrong, sir?”

“No. Nothing you can control.” Dean runs a hand along the curve of Castiel’s jaw. “Sir is just going to help you shut that pesky mind of yours off for a bit. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Yes, sir. Yes. P-please.” Castiel exhales, the sound bordering on a sob. “Sir, please.”

“Shhh. Hush, now, sweetheart. Hush. I’ve got you. You trust me, right?” Castiel nods frantically, tears falling down his cheeks from where they’re spilling past his blindfold. Dean’s chest aches. His poor, sweet boy. So good for him. Always so good. But always so strung out and anxious too. 

Dean gently guides Castiel’s head until he’s resting a cheek against the bench beneath him. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now just try to relax. Try to breathe.” Dean turns the thing in his hand slowly, appreciating it. “Go ahead and make whatever noises you want. Cry or scream-”

“Scream?” Castiel asks in a high-pitched voice, cutting Dean off. 

Dean ignores him. “-or do whatever you need to do, but no words other than safewords.”

“Sir?”

“If you take this like a good boy, you’ll get to come.”

“But-”

“Hush!” Dean barks, smacking Castiel’s right ass cheek three times in rapid succession. It makes his boy squirm and sob. 

Dean grabs his squirt bottle of lube and presses the tip to Castiel’s hole. Castiel jumps and cries out, probably expecting more pain. Not wanting to scare the boy, Dean places a hand on the untouched skin of Castiel’s lower back and strokes him in soothing circles. 

“You’re okay,” he coos. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. My good boy. Do you want sir to make you feel good, now? Hmmm?”

There’s a noise that comes from Castiel’s chest as he nods. It’s a lazy nod. Dean smiles, knowing what that means. Knowing that his boy is drifting. 

“Such a good boy. Look at you relaxing for sir.” Dean squirts the lube and chuckles when Castiel shivers. Then he brushes his thumb in circles over the tight hole, smearing it around before pushing inside. Even though the tip of the bottle had been in there, no one would ever be able to tell from how tight Castiel is. It takes Dean multiple attempts and a few quiet reassurances before he can get his thumb in all the way. Once it’s settled, though, it’s like a switch flicks. Castiel starts to push back, his panted whimpers a non-verbal plea for more. 

“There he is. There’s my mindless little slut. Welcome back. Here’s your reward.” Dean slips his thumb out and replaces it with his pointer finger. He only gets halfway but that doesn’t stop him. He just pulls out and slides back in, this time burying his finger deep. As he strokes and turns, making sure to specifically avoid Castiel’s prostate, Dean starts to muse out loud, “I wonder if I should make you come on my fingers, or with a toy.” 

Castiel moans but says nothing. 

_Good. He’s learning. _

“Or maaaybbe,” Dean says in an overly casual tone, adding a second finger as he does so. “I should just keep hitting you and see if you can come from that.

This time it’s not a moan but a whine. Dean chuckles. “Oh, my boy doesn’t like that idea, does he?”

Castiel shakes his head, looking back at Dean as if he can see through his blindfold. Part of Dean wants to take it off him so he can fully take his boy’s beauty in, but Dean knows better. It’d be a distraction at this point. Something Castiel would have to take the time to adjust to. They’re already so close to the finish line, Dean doesn’t want to pull Castiel away from the edge like that. 

“Hmmm, fingers or toy then, I suppose. Since my boy has been so good.” Goosebumps erupt along Castiel’s skin. Dean’s not sure he’ll ever get tired of seeing what just his praise alone can do to his beautiful boy. “Does my toy have an opinion?”

There’s a twitch in Castiel’s muscles like he might say something, but then he sags against the bench and whines again. Dean knows he could have spoken if he wanted to. His mind is still here. Still present enough. He hasn’t been pushed that final inch toward the edge. 

But toys’ opinions don’t matter, and Castiel apparently remembers that. 

“Very well, then. I suppose I’ll think it over while I experiment on you some more.” 

It’s clear Castiel isn’t sure what to expect, his body tensing up when Dean’s fingers leave his hole. He yelps the first time Dean licks his ass cheek. Clearly, it’s not what he was expecting. The next time Dean does it, over a particularly red spot, all of the air rushes out of Castiel in a hiss. His entire body shudders when Dean pulls back to blow on the wet skin. 

Dean runs a fingertip down Castiel’s spine, making a decision. One more round of pain. Then? Then pleasure. So much pleasure. Until he fucking explodes. 

When he takes a final look at Castiel’s ass, however, Dean makes the decision that this round of pain needs to be mild. He wants to heighten the boy’s pleasure, not diminish it. Even if Castiel can take the pain, he shouldn’t have to. 

“I’m going to spank you,” Dean declares. “Then I’m going to make you come. How does that sound, boy? You like that plan?”

The moment Castiel nods, Dean’s bringing his hand down on the curve of Castiel’s right ass cheek. Then his left. Right. Right again. Left. Right. Left. The back of his left thigh. His right thigh. His left thigh. 

“Sir!” Castiel sobs, his feet kicking uselessly where they lay bound against the bench. “Sir, sir, sir!”

“Color?”

His boy’s face turns bright red. He hates that he’s getting asked that right now because this is him admitting that he wants it to continue. Dean has a feeling his boy likes a little humiliation, though. Considering the fact he’s gently grinding himself against the bench. “Green, sir!”

“Good boy.” 

And then he goes back to hitting him. 

This time, Castiel doesn’t do well staying quiet. He doesn’t even try. Dean lets it slide, enjoying the beautiful sounds. A lovely string of “Ah!” and “Sir!” and “Please!” and jibberish clouded by sobs. 

“Five more. Take them quietly for me. Be a good boy.” Dean pauses, considering the boy on the bench. “You may cry if you need. Just no words.” 

He waits for Castiel’s nod, then begins. Dean knows he’s in love because the five slaps are weak and soft. Castiel even stops sobbing during them. 

“Good boy,” Dean pants when he’s finished, his cock aching and his head rushing with adrenaline. “Now sir is gonna make you feel fucking amazing. You want that, sweetheart?”

Castiel whimpers. Doesn’t nod or shake his head. Doesn’t even wiggle his hips. With a tilt of his head, Dean assesses the situation. “Sweetheart? Can you tell me what color you are?”

“Mmmm.” Castiel scrunches his nose and does an adorable little sniffle. “M-g’n.”

Dean chuckles. “Can you try that again for me?”

This time Castiel huffs, apparently annoyed that Dean is making him perform such a task when Castiel is clearly trying to enjoy the safe space Dean has put his mind in. Dean can understand the frustration, but he’s too new at this with Castiel. He doesn’t know him well enough yet to know if this kind of checking out is okay. 

“Cas, give me a color. I don’t care what color it is, baby, whatever you need. But if you don’t give me one of your three colors then I’ll assume red and end this. Understood?”

“Gaarr,” Castiel growls. Then he mumbles a pouty, “‘m greeeeeeeeeeeeeen, sir.”

“Good boy. Not so bad, hmm?” Chuckling, Dean pats him a little on the ass. He ignores Castiel’s whine of protest and turns back to the toy he chose for Castiel. 

“Relax for me.” Castiel tries, his muscles smoothing out and his fingers going limp. His ass, however, is still clenched. Dean presses a freshly lubed finger against his opening and smiles when the boy gasps. A beautiful blush crawls along his cheeks and down his neck. So sweet and innocent and flustered now, as if Dean wasn’t finger fucking him just a little bit ago. As if he wasn’t shamelessly calling himself sir’s slut when this all began. 

“Open up for me. Come on.” Dean teases his hole again, grinning when it flutters for a moment before squeezing shut. “Maybe you don’t want me to give you pleasure after all. Should I perhaps grab the paddle?”

With a high whine and a shake of his head, Castiel cants his hips the best he can in his restraints. His hole flutters again, but this time it doesn’t stop. It continues to open and close as if it’s begging Dean to fill it. 

Well, Dean certainly won’t make him wait. 

“That’s it,” he coos as he rubs the first knob of his glass string of anal beads against the winking hole. It’s dripping lube and probably feels strange against the sensitive area. With short, constant thrusts, Dean teases Castiel’s hole until it flutters open just enough to let the first ball in. Castiel tilts his head back and moans, his hips ever so slightly jerking. 

“Good boy,” Dean praises. “Think you can take more for me?”

“Ngggh,” is all he gets in return. 

Dean laughs softly and presses forward until the second bulb is pressed against the hole that’s now looking slightly open and definitely greedy. He decides to try to wiggle it in without any verbal encouragement, thinking it probably won’t work. 

It does, though. Castiel’s hole swallows the thing like it was made for him. 

“Fuck. Look at you. Takin’ it so well, boy.” Castiel turns his face and hides it against his bicep. It’s adorable. Dean will let it slide for tonight, since the boy is so new, but pretty soon he’ll make damn sure his embarrassed little flustered sub keeps his face where his dom can appreciate it. “One more, I think. Hmmm?”

Castiel shivers. His hole clenches so hard the part of the anal beads that are still sticking out of him bobs in the air. Dean nearly chokes on his own tongue as he imagines what that squeeze would have felt like on his cock. 

“One more,” Dean declares. “You’ll take it for me like a good boy.”

It’s not a question but an order. Castiel seems to take it that way too because he rocks back the little bit his restraints will allow, working with Dean to push the third bead into him. It’s harder to get inside of him than the first two, both because Castiel’s already so full and second because this ball is the biggest so far. With a little encouragement and some more lube, though, his boy’s ass is being filled. 

“You have permission to come whenever you’re ready.” Castiel doesn’t acknowledge him, too focused on fucking back on the beads now. They’re thick enough to use mostly like a dildo, except these are probably rolling perfectly over Castiel’s prostate. Which he’s pretty damn sure is happening because Castiel has quickly gone from panting and moaning to squeaking and crying. 

“Sir,” he screams, the sound sharp and severe. Castiel shakes his head no but moves even faster against the toy inside of him. Dean’s barely even moving it anymore, just twisting his wrist and adding a bit of pressure here and there. “Sir, sir, sir, sir!”

“Come for me, sweetheart. I know you can.” Dean leans forward and presses more weight where he knows Castiel’s prostate is. Castiel screams. No. No, Castiel _shrieks_. Then Dean’s shifting so he can wrap a hand around Castiel’s throat. It’s an awkward angle, but the way Castiel begins to uncontrollably shudder combined with the absolutely filthy moan he releases before his oxygen is cut off is all Dean needs for it to be worth it. “That’s it. Come on, now. Let go. You’re safe.” 

And that’s it. The moment that safety is solidified, Castiel shatters. It’s possibly one of the most beautiful things Dean’s ever seen and he can’t help but stare, mesmerized as he works his boy through his orgasm. 

It takes about thirty seconds before Castiel sobs himself silent. He’s deflated on the bench, nearly melting straight through the leather. A pile of goo. Every few seconds he makes a little humming sound, but that’s it. Otherwise, he’s lying there. Breathing slowly. 

He’s gone. Far away. 

Dean can’t help but swell with pride. Since that’s not the only thing swelling, he takes out his cock and fists it with the hand still slick with lube from prepping Castiel and the beads. He rests his other hand on the edge of the bench beside Castiel’s thigh and leans forward, eyes closing as he jacks himself. It doesn’t take much time at all. Less than a minute. Then Dean’s stepping back and spilling on the floor, not wanting his cum to aggravate the marks on his boy’s ass. 

After giving himself five seconds to breathe through his post-bliss, Dean tucks himself back in and comes to face Castiel. He runs a gentle hand through his hair and smiles. “You with me, sweetheart?”

There’s a possibility Castiel hums, but Dean’s not sure. Honestly, he’s hoping it wasn’t. He’s hoping Castiel is flying so fucking high right now he’s completely forgotten where he is. That he’s forgotten his own damn name. That he’s fucking weightless. 

Dean frees the boy from his restraints and squats down, putting his hands in Castiel’s armpits and lifting. Castiel drags on his stomach, then his thighs, before coming off the bench and into Dean’s arms. He can’t help but notice that Castiel is too damn thin as he does this. Usually, subs don’t go this far into subspace with him. It’s rare to get that with someone you’re randomly playing with. The few times they have, Dean never had them strapped to something so awkward to scoop someone off of. Even with no previous knowledge, though, Dean’s pretty damn sure it should have been harder than that. He should have at least struggled. Instead, the boy just falls against him like a ragdoll, fitting perfectly in his hold. 

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? Maybe get you a drink? Then we can nap.” Dean knows Castiel isn’t listening but he knows many submissives still subconsciously hear their dom. It’s more of a comfort thing. 

Maybe it’s a comfort thing for Dean too, if he’s being honest. As thankful as he is that he was able to make Castiel fly tonight, he’s still anxious about it. He won’t find out how he’s doing until he comes down. Then, of course, there’s always the threat of a drop. They’ve played twice now, and so far, they aren’t doing so hot when it comes to that little issue. Dean will feel terrible if Castiel’s second experience turns out just as awful as the first. 

He might have to re-assess if he’s truly what’s best for Castiel if that happens. 

Dean settles Castiel back on the pillows of the playroom bed and uses gentle-care wipes to clean the front of Castiel, ignoring the fact that the boy covered him in cum as well when he picked him up. He forces him to take a few sips of juice, much to the boy’s dismay, before deciding to let him rest for a while. 

“Alright. There we go. Let’s tuck you in now.” Dean finds the softest blanket to cover Castiel up, not wanting him to get chilled. The brush of fabric against Castiel’s skin makes the boy protest in the back of his throat, his face scrunching up in displeasure before smoothing out again. He hums in approval at the warmth and burrows further into the mattress with a sleepy smile. When Dean hands him his stuffed bunny, Castiel nuzzles it and falls straight back to sleep. 

Dean’s never been happier than right this moment. It takes his breath away. Makes his head spin. He places a hand on Castiel’s cheek and stares down at him in awe. And, because Castiel is very clearly fast asleep, Dean lets himself confess, “I love you, Castiel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! It's been WAY TOO LONG since I could update this story, and I'm so sorry! The good news is that I'm OFFICIALLY A COLLEGE GRADUATE, and now I have all summer to write for you lovely people <3 
> 
> Enjoy (:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for talking about self-harm/depression/anxiety/suicide

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Dean asks Castiel about an hour after Castiel has fully come back to himself. They’re lying on the huge couch in the living room, cuddling and watching Netflix. Dean had suggested they watch in the little movie theatre he had but Castiel had rolled his eyes and told him that they were going to be normal people for a night and use a damn TV. 

Castiel isn’t sure what he did to make Dean say he's trouble, however. They haven’t spoken at all since they started the TV show they chose. They’re only a third of the way through episode one of _Sex Education_, and unless 3 teenagers talking in an abandoned bathroom about overdosing on Viagra speaks to Dean on a deeper level somehow, Castiel doesn’t know what brought it on. 

He knows how to answer, though. With a cheeky grin and an, “I disagree completely.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I bet you do. My little brat.”

Castiel blushes. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Surprisingly… I find it _endearing_.” Dean brushes one of Castiel’s curls off of his forehead. “I’ve never had one.”

“A brat?” Castiel turns in Dean’s arms so he can look at him better. “Wait, you’ve never had any sub I thought?”

“You’re right. I misspoke. I’ve never _played _with a brat.”

Castiel doesn't know what to make of that. _Does Dean hate brats? Is he making an exception for Castiel? And, if he is, will he get tired of doing that?_

“What’s going through this pretty head of yours?” Dean asks softly, tapping a finger against Castiel’s temple. As if he knows that Castiel doesn’t want to tell him, as if Castiel was already starting to formulate a lie, Dean adds, “Remember, Castiel, honesty is huge for a relationship between us.”

The reminder takes the air out of Castiel’s wings. He deflates against Dean, tucking his face into his neck so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. “Why have you never played with a brat?” 

“Brats are…” Dean trails off and Castiel feels like shriveling up in a ball and disappearing. “Brats are long-game. One scene with them just isn’t - it isn’t enough, in my opinion at least. The thing about brats is how diverse the play is. Fluid. If I wanted to play with a sub, I’d talk terms with them beforehand. What they want from the scene, what I want, and negotiate from there. The scene starts, they obey the rules set up, you give them whatever was discussed, punish them if they fuck up, scenes over, you do aftercare, all is well.”

“But… not with a brat?”

“You _can _do that with a brat but I feel like it strips them of their personality. It’s - it’s safer to play within strict limitations when it’s a scene with a stranger or someone you aren’t very comfortable with. There’s less wiggle room of something going wrong, of something happening that they accidentally didn’t discuss, whatever.” Dean sighs, and Castiel can tell he’s worried he’s not making any sense. He is. A little. Castiel just can’t wrap his mind around it very well. “For a standard sub, strict limitations is usually fine. One night they want impact play. Another night they want suspension. Mix and match. Yada-yada. But a brat, usually, doesn’t want the scene to be planned at all. Not by them, at least. They like surprises, which usually works best if they’re in a long-term deal with a dom. And brats like being mischievous. Cheeky. They like to fight and wiggle and say no even though they don’t mean it. They like to be a good boy one scene and then naughty the next, and for both the sub and the dominant, it’s a thrill to get to experience both. To know that the man you’re kneeling for and obeying is the same man who whipped the shit out of you for biting him. To know that that boy on his knees being so damn good for you is the same boy who bit you last week and was a little shit that needed to be whipped until he sobbed. Both of them knowing that the other stuck around despite it all. It’s - it’s something I’d like, to be honest. I’m a sadist after all. But-”

“Wait, you are?”

Dean pauses and Castiel can feel how badly Dean wants to flinch. It’s rare for Dean to feel that way, which makes Castiel sad. Guilty. He shouldn’t have said anything about - “Yes. I am. Mild sadist, but… well - well, okay, I might be more than mild, I’ve never let myself explore it farther. I - I don’t know. But it’s _only _when it’s consensual though. Only when I’m paired with a masochist who fucking loves it. I don’t - I’m not the kind of sadist who wants a sub that hates pain. I don’t get off on them suffering for me, I get off on them suffering _because _of me but _for _themself. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Castiel runs a hand along Dean’s bare ribcage, smiling when it makes him shiver. “Am I a masochist?” 

The pause is even longer this time. 

Then, very tentatively, Dean says, “I believe so.”

“Why?”

“Why are you a masochist?”

“Why do you think so?”

“Oh.” Dean chuckles. “Where do I begin? There’s the fact that you’re bratty in the first place, which means you have to like the punishment to some degree or you wouldn’t risk it. There’s the fact that your cock went from half-hard to leaking pathetically all over my floor after just a few hard slaps to your ass. Or we could talk about the fact that I honestly believe you could come if I did impact on you a certain why. Or would you prefer we focus on how you were humping the bench beneath you like a little slut as I paddled your ass raw?”

Castiel had tucked his face in the hollow of Dean’s throat about halfway through that and he remains there. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.” Dean kisses the top of his head. “It’s not shameful, Castiel. Not in the least.”

“I know.” And Castiel does. He knows. It’s just… “Is that why I cut myself? Because… because I like it?”

The way Dean’s breath hitches seems like a bad sign but his voice is surprisingly soft and understanding as he asks, “Do you like it?”

“I mean, obviously…”

“But-” Dean stops himself, seeming to be thinking his words through first. “What do you like about hurting yourself? Is it the pain itself or how the pain affects your anxiety and depression?” 

Castiel frowns. “I don’t know.”

“Can you maybe try to explain what you feel like when you cut.”

“I - it changes.” Castiel tries to think of how to explain it. He wants to. He wants to help Dean understand and he wants Dean to help him understand. “Sometimes it feels like I’m floating outside of my body. Detached. Usually that’s - usually that’s when I’m really depressed. I guess I sort of go - blank? Empty. It’s a scary feeling and I - I don’t like it.”

“So you hurt yourself, and it grounds you? It brings you back?”

There’s not an ounce of judgement in Dean’s voice. 

It’s amazing. 

“Yes. That’s - yes. It helps, at least. Not always a magic fix but - yes.” Castiel runs a finger along Dean’s collarbone. “Sometimes it’s the opposite. It feels - it feels like I’m trapped inside of my body. That’s usually the anxiety or the - the panic. Like I’m stuck inside my body and everything is caving in on me. It makes me want to scratch my skin off. Claw my way out. Cutting - cutting makes it all calm a bit, I guess? It’s something to focus on.”

“It grounds you, just differently.”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t get off on either of those pains? They ground you, relieve you, but they don’t _pleasure _you.”

“Right.”

Dean’s hand presses against Castiel’s back, bringing him in tight. Almost painfully so. It’s not, though. It’s good. It’s so fucking good. 

“You like cutting yourself because it grounds you and it’s a way to escape whatever current state your mind is stuck in.” When he says it like that, it sounds so simple. “Then why do you like it when I hurt you in a scene?”

_Isn’t that the million dollar question?_

“I have no fucking idea.”

This makes Dean laugh. The sound is low and soft but full-bodied as well. It’s beautiful. “It’s okay not to know. What’s more important is that I can give you those two ways of grounding you in our playroom, plus give you the pleasure you need, all without you having to hurt yourself like that.”

Castiel’s heart skips. He pushes up onto his elbow to look Dean in the eye. “Really?”

“Yes. Well, I want to try at least. Suppose I shouldn’t be too cocky about it until I know it’ll work.” 

“But… how?”

“It’s a bit of a… hypothesis of sorts but,” Dean pauses, cupping Castiel’s cheek. His smile is nervous but hopeful. “When you’re out of your mind, I’ll bring you down. When you’re trapped, I’ll make you fly so high you forget your own fucking name.”

“But _how_?” 

“I don’t know yet.” Dean gives him an apologetic smile. “Think maybe it’ll take some testing out, though I have a few ideas.”

“Liiikkee?”

“Liiikkee,” Dean repeats, “You’ll find out when I show you.”

Before Castiel has a chance to pout too much, Dean’s moving into the next topic of conversation. “You want to do this full-time. What, exactly, does that mean to you?”

It feels like Castiel is given whiplash. He has to think for a minute, switching gears. Dean’s patient as he waits, just playing with Castiel’s curls and smiling a secret smile that makes Castiel feel bubbly inside. 

Castiel has thought a lot about this and at the same time he’s barely thought about it at all. He’s thought about the big picture quite a lot. The concept. But the details? Not so much. 

He’s still a virgin. Give him a break. 

“I just want… I don’t know.” Castiel sighs, already feeling frustrated. “Like, I don’t want to become your sex slave or shit like that. I think I already made it pretty clear how I feel about being locked in your ivory tower and controlled. I - I don’t want to feel like I’m living under my father again.”

“Okay.” Dean gives him an encouraging smile. “What do you want it to be, then.”

“Like - like that night, when you made me eat and I was good so you massaged me. I - I liked that you cared. That you made me do stuff to take care of myself when I didn’t want to do it myself. Sometimes it’s hard to - sometimes it’s overwhelming trying to take care of myself.” Immediately, Castiel wants to swallow the words back. Choke on them. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his face heat up. “That’s fucking stupid. I _know _that’s stupid. I’m not a fucking child-”

“Enough,” Dean snaps. It’s his dom voice. Angry. Authoritative. Leaves no fucking room for argument. Castiel obeys, falling silent, but he keeps his eyes closed. He shivers when he feels Dean’s fingertips on his cheek. “It is perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed by shit like that. Hell, Cas, I get overwhelmed with shit like that. Sometimes, waking up in the morning is all you can fucking do that day, and ya know what, babe? I’ll be so damn proud of you for that. I’ll take care of the rest. You just have to keep waking up. And on your good days - on your good days, you’ll have more freedom. Things will be relaxed. But every day, no matter what your head is like, I’m going to make sure your basic needs are met. You’ll eat three meals a day. You’ll shower or bathe. You’ll do your homework if you have some, or practice your instruments, or whatever other responsibilities you have that I think you’re fit to deal with that day. On the good days, you can do all that yourself, but on the bad ones, I’ll do it all for you. Feed you. Bathe you. The works.”

Castiel opens his eyes wide. “You’d - you’d do all of that?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” Castiel looks down at Dean’s chin, unable to meet his gaze. “I don't want you to get sick of dealing with me.”

“Cas, babe… can you look at me?” It takes him a second but after a deep breath Castiel meets Dean’s eyes. His expression is wide-open. Vulnerable, but _sure_. “Me taking care of you is what I want. What I _need_. I’m never going to get sick of you.”

Feeling incredibly exposed and afraid, Castiel whispers, “Promise?”

“I swear.” Dean drags his thumb along Castiel’s lip, lust flashing in his eyes. “What do you think of what I said so far? The standard rules?”

“I like ‘em.” Castiel’s eyes flutter closed as Dean’s thumb skates along his jaw and down the curve of his neck. He shivers as it passes over a sensitive spot. “When are you gonna want me to - to kneel and stuff?”

“I’ll always tell you. Always. You have no expectations from day to day, other than to trust me, be honest with me, and listen to me - unless you need to safeword.”

Castiel made a face. “Safeword? For stuff that isn’t sex?”

“_Absolutely_. Cas, if I ask you to shut off the damn bedroom light you can safeword if it feels warranted. I won’t argue with you. I’ll want an explanation so I can understand and help you. So it doesn’t happen again. But your safewords never go away. Never. You - tell me you understand that, okay? Can you repeat that for me?”

“My safewords never go away.” Castiel feels incredibly powerful saying it. “Never.”

“Good boy. Now, just because I haven’t told you to kneel doesn’t mean you can’t. You are more than welcome to always kneel for me if you want to or you feel like you need to. Even if we’re in public. No place is off-limits when you need me to be your sir.” Dean smiles at that last part, as if he’s particularly fond of the idea. Castiel’s pretty damn fond of it himself. “The same goes with calling me sir. Even if you haven’t been told to, if you feel the need or desire to, you always can. I’ll feel honored. I like to feel as if I’ve earned the right to be called that. It pleases me to know you want me to be that for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel looks away, blushing. “_Sir_.”

Dean chuckles. “God do I love the sound of that on your tongue.”

“Maybe you just like my tongue.”

“Maybe I do.” Dean’s grip on him tightens, bordering on pain. “Maybe I’ll have to test it a bit more before I decide.”

“Please, sir.”

This just makes Dean laugh again. He’s clearly amused. He’s also clearly not going to give Castiel what he’s asking for, which is frustrating as all hell. 

“My little brat,” Dean muses, running a hand through Castiel’s hair and gently tugging. “Do you want more rules so you can be a brat?”

Castiel nods. Dean allows it, but he makes it so every jerk of his head is a fight, and that turns Castiel on way more than it fucking should. “I like the idea of getting rules that day, though. Or, like, scene by scene or whatever. It gives me anxiety to - to have to worry about remembering a bunch of stuff.”

“Yes. I know.” 

“You do?”

“Yes.” Dean smiles softly. “I realized it when you dropped. I understand you were having a lot of thoughts and were already on a downward spiral but you not knowing to call me sir, and then being unsure if I wanted you to kneel in the bathroom when I asked you to draw the bath. You need clear instructions and you need them to not be overwhelming.”

“And you’re just… _okay _with that?”

Dean’s smile turns into a grin. “Very much so. What would be the point otherwise, Cas? Like I said, I enjoy what we do because you enjoy it too. It has to go both ways. I _like _knowing I’m taking care of you. Knowing I’m giving you what you want - or sometimes what you need, because they can be different even if that frustrates you, which, trust me brat, it will. If I give you a set of rules that just make you more anxious or expect things from you that you won’t like, then I’m not doing that. I’m not taking care of you or giving you what you want and need. Does that make sense?”

Castiel nods. 

Then he’s blushing again, his thoughts drifting to earlier today. When he wanted to defy Dean. Push him. The thrill it gave him to see how far he could go. To know that someone dangerous like Dean would be punishing him. To see if he could take it. And he liked it. He hated it... But he liked it too. 

“What are you thinkin’ about, angel?”

His blush intensifies but when Castiel tries to look away, Dean traps him between two strong hands. He could close his eyes but he can’t get himself to. It’s like Dean has him in a trance. 

“Come on. You know you want to tell me.”

“I-” Castiel licks his lips, really wishing he could look away but also turned insanely on by the way Dean’s smirking at him. By how humiliating it is. “I was thinking about being a brat earlier, sir.”

Dean’s pupils dilate. “Tell me, boy, what is it that you like about being my little brat?

Castiel finally manages to close his eyes. It makes things worse. Now, he has no idea what Dean looks like. He could be laughing at Castiel. He could be angry. He could be turned on. He could look like he wants to eat him alive - which is Castiel’s personal favorite Dean Winchester expression as of late. 

“I’m waiting,” Dean teases. 

“Just - just how it - it-” Castiel squirms, embarrassingly aware of how his hard cock is pressing against Dean’s stomach. “It’s exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s exciting to piss me off? To push my buttons?” When Castiel shivers, Dean laughs. He keeps his eyes closed so he doesn’t have to see the way the man is probably looking at him. It’s either bad and it’ll make Castiel feel stupid, or it’s good and it’ll make Castiel even hornier than he already is. 

Dean grabs a fistful of Castiel’s hair and yanks his head to the side so he’s growling in his ear, “Does it turn you on that I could do anything to you when you’re in there? I could keep you there for hours. Days. Forever. My perfect little sex slave. I could whore you out. Fuck you with machines. I could kill you, little angel. Does that turn you on?”

“Oh god,” Castiel whimpers, shuddering. It does. It does turn him on. _What the fuck does that mean? What kind of sick person does that make him?_

“Yeah, I knew it did. My dirty little brat.” Dean chuckles in his ear and it’s dark and ominous and nearly makes Castiel come in his damn pants. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll do those things to you? Surely you can’t want that.”

“No, sir. Don’t want it. Just - just hot that you - that you could.” Castiel gulps in air, desperate to explain himself. Desperate to understand it himself. “I trust you. I - I push you ‘cause I can.”

“Mmmm. Good answer.” Dean claims his mouth, taking him by surprise. Castiel gasps before melting into it, parting his lips and letting Dean plunder him. When he’s apparently had enough, Dean pulls away. His voice is husky when he asks, “And the punishments? Are they just a consequence of the thrill, or do you like those too?”

Castiel squirms. “I don’t - I don’t know, sir.”

“I think I know.” Dean palms him through his pants before squeezing him hard. It makes Castiel’s eyes fly open in shock. He’s immediately met with the sight of Dean looking at him in his favorite way - like he’s a meal and Dean’s planning to devour him. “I think you love it and you hate it, and I think you fucking love that you hate it.”

“Is that bad sir?”

Dean must be able to hear the slight fear in Castiel’s voice because his features soften and his voice smooths out. “Not at all, sweetheart.” Then he winks. “But I’m still gonna give you shit for it.”

“I’ll give it right back.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m counting on it.” Dean squeezes him through his pants again, laughing when Castiel cries out. "Someone's all hard and desperate again, isn't he?"

Blushing, Castiel nods. He takes a chance and grinds on Dean's thigh. It feels good enough for him to throw his head back and groan. 

"Look at you. Jesus christ." Dean grabs his hips and pushes him down harder. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck yes."

Dean grabs Castiel's throat in a sudden, tight grip. His eyes narrow and his demeanor shifts. Right before his eyes, Castiel sees _sir_ step out of the shadows. He's not sure if it's that or the slight cutting off of his oxygen, but Castiel goes dizzy. 

"You have until dinner call to come." 

"I - wha?" 

"Dinner call should be any minute now, boy. If you can make yourself come before, go ahead. If you can't, then you'll just have to wait." 

"Wait until when, sir?"

Sir's smile is wicked. "Until I say otherwise."

"Okay. Yes. Yes, sir." 

Castiel's hands fly down to the button of his jeans, fingers working quickly to pop it free and pull down the zipper. Two strong hands stop him from going any further as sir grabs his wrists in a vice like grip. Castiel whines in frustration. They're wasting time. Cant sir see he's wasting time? It's not fair!

"Did I say you could touch yourself, boy?"

It takes Castiel a moment to process. Even then, he’s confused. "You - you said I could make myself come, sir. If - if I hurry?" 

Sir's lips twist in evil amusement. "Yes. So make yourself come."

Castiel just stares, dumbfounded. When he realizes sir isn't going to explain further, he looks down at his crotch and shakes his head. "Sir?" 

"On my thigh, boy." 

Castiel's eyes go wide. "But-"

"You said it felt good."

"I - well - _yes…_" Castiel looks away, his face turning red. 

"Then grind yourself on me. Show sir how desperate you are."

Tears sting Castiel's eyes at the humiliation. Surely sir cant be asking him to… to hump his leg. That’s - that’s how dogs get off. 

"Sir," Castiel whines, feeling dirty and horny and a breath away from giving in. 

A hand snakes up to grab Castiel's hair, yanking so hard Castiels breath catches. "Come on my thigh or not at all. Your choice, sweetheart."

The rough treatment and the husky, threatening tone of sir’s voice mixes with the 'sweetheart' to form an intoxicating need Castiel can't overcome. Before he's registered what's happening, he's tilting his weight forward and sliding himself across sir’s thigh. The shame from before still lingers beneath his skin but every thrust of denim against denim makes it fade. He feels like he's unraveling. Like he’s unhinged. This man has tied him up, spanked him, paddled him, fucked his face, turned him inside out until he was calling himself a slut, and yet here Castiel is, falling apart for him on his fucking thigh. 

The idea is thrilling. It sends sparks straight down his spine and through his cock and he cries out, hips bucking frantically as his orgasm lingers just out of reach. 

It's much less thrilling when Benny knocks harshly on the wing’s door and yells through it, "Dinner, boss."

Sir’s hands immediately anchor Castiel in place, pushing down hard enough where he can’t even budge. Castiel sobs out of frustration, his skin tingling from the denial while his chest throbs with dominated bliss. He doesn't care that Benny probably heard him. He doesn't care that sir chuckles. He just deflates against sir’s chest and trembles, denial thick and murky in his veins. 

"We'll be right there!" Sir yells in an amused voice that should piss Castiel off. It doesn't, though. Sir sounds _pleased. _Castiel pleased him. That's better than getting to please himself. He’d make that trade any day. 

If he could please sir AND himself though… that’d be nice. 

"Color, sweetheart?" Sir whispers in his ear, fingers carding through Castiel's hair in steady, calming strokes. 

"Green, sir." 

"Can you go down there to eat with everyone?"

Castiel tucks his face in sir’s neck, blushing. He's rock hard in his pants and feeling floaty. He's not sure how that’d go over downstairs. Then again, he’s already feeling himself coming down from that precipice. 

"I think so, sir.” Castiel takes a breath. “Can we - can we wait a minute, though? Please, sir?”

"That's perfectly okay, sweetheart. You go wash up. Take your time. Then we’ll go down to eat.”

Unable to help himself, Castiel squirms in sir’s lap. "And then I can come?" 

Sirs laugh is fond but Castiel recognizes a hint of cruelty beneath it that doesn't bode well. "Oh no, no, no. You won't be doing that at all tonight. Best not to dwell on it. We don't want a grumpy boy at dinner, do we?"

It takes everything in Castiel not to say "If _we _didn't want a grumpy boy then maybe _we _should let him come" but he doesn’t. As much as he thinks he'll like being bratty and pushing sir’s buttons, in this case his next orgasm is on the line, and Castiel’s not even sure how he'll survive the night as it is. He’s not going to make matters worse. 

So, in an incredibly forced polite voice that he's pretty sure sir can see straight through, Castiel says, "Yes sir," instead and goes to wash up like a good boy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has his first day as Dean's sub, and Dean takes care of some mafia business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for you patience and awesome comments and general greatness <3 I love each and every one of you lovely people!

Dean wakes up with a jolt, his hand immediately reaching out to where he always keeps a gun velcroed to the side of his bedside table. His fingers curl around it just as someone else's fingers curl around his wrist. “Boss. It’s me.” 

“Fucking hell, Benny.” Dean sits up in the bed, wiping a hand down his face. He looks over his shoulder at Castiel’s sleeping body. Something settles inside him at the confirmation that his boy is safe and okay. 

Putting his finger up to silence Benny, Dean slips out of the bed and drags on a discarded pair of sweatpants. Then he ducks into his walk-in closet, shutting the door before turning the light on. As Dean squints into the brightness, trying his best to get his damn eyes to adjust, Benny begins to brief him. “Two demons jumped Garth outside of a club about 40 minutes ago. He was able to fight them off, but he killed one of them.”

“Fuck.” Dean hangs his head. “Fuck. Okay. Who was it?”

“Just some low end idiot. No one of value.” 

“And the other one? The one that’s still alive?”

“Same. They both seemed new. Probably trying to prove themselves.” Benny tilts his head in the direction of the door. “We have the one that’s still kicking down in the dungeon.”

Dean sighs. “Alright. Does Crowley know about any of this yet?”

“If he does, he hasn’t made contact.”

“Anything from The Angels?”

“Nope.”

Frowning, Dean turns to his rack of clothes and begins picking some out. He won’t be sleeping any more tonight. Might as well get dressed for the day. As he starts pulling dress pants up his legs, the ones for his favorite suit, Dean gives Benny his orders. “I want more info on these two demons, and someone needs to get me the whereabouts of Crowley right now. Check in with The Angels, I guess. Probably a good idea with the alliance. Give ‘em a heads up that Crowley might be stirring shit up.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“The one that’s still breathing, you said he’s in the dungeon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Strip him, spray him down, lower the temp, and hang him up by his wrists. I’ll deal with him later.”

Benny smirks. “Yes, sir.”

“Go on, now. Be quiet. I don’t want Cas to wake up yet.”

With a nod to show he understands, Benny opens the door just enough to slip out of it before quietly closing it again. He doesn’t make a sound as he leaves. 

Dean finishes getting dressed, then turns the light off in the closet and sneaks back into the bedroom. He pauses at the foot of the bed and gives himself 60 seconds to just appreciate the view of the boy he loves lying in his bed. In that single minute, he comes to a very important conclusion. 

He’s going to fuck Castiel tonight. 

They’ve waited long enough. 

\---- 

Castiel wakes up slowly, the sunlight soft and welcoming as it pours in through the windows. He smiles at the view of the sun rising over the mountains in the distance. Then he turns on his side to look at an even better view. 

Except, Dean isn’t there. 

Castiel’s eyebrows pull in, making something on his forehead crinkle and pull at his skin. He slaps at it with a hand before yanking it off. The wrinkled sticky-note is bright yellow. Castiel grins like an idiot when he reads the words hastily scrawled across it. 

> _ **Good morning sleepy head,** _

> _ **Had to deal with some shit. ** _

> _ **Eat breakfast and lunch with Ellen.** _

> _ **Benny has your meds.** _

> _ **There are instructions for you in the playroom. ** _

> _ **Go read them.** _

> _ **-Dean** _

Hoping Dean isn’t lurking around in the suite for any reason, Castiel drops all pretenses of acting cool and practically sprints to the playroom. His hand shakes as he reaches for the handle, and he has to remind himself twice that Dean gave him permission to go in. He can’t help but think of what happened last time he was in here, though. The things Dean did to him… god, the scene was mind blowing. More than mind blowing. It was fucking… cosmic. 

With a deep breath, Castiel pushes into the playroom, closing the door behind himself. Some of the lights are on, set to their lowest settings, including the lights around the platform of the bed. On the bed, in the center of the large mattress, is a black box with a red bow and what looks like a piece of paper. Castiel decides that it’s safer to read the letter first. He has a bad feeling about whatever is in the box. 

> _ **Boy,** _

> _ **Be good for me today, and you’ll get that orgasm I kept from you last night. ** _

> _ **Be bad, and you’ll get your cock caged and your ass spanked. ** _

> _ **Either way, I’m fucking you tonight. Up to you if you enjoy it. ** _

Castiel moans, closing his eyes to try and get a hold of himself. It doesn’t help. All it does is make it easier for him to picture Dean fucking him. 

Snapping his eyes open, he rereads the first part of the letter before continuing on. 

It doesn’t get much easier to read. 

> _ **In the box is everything you need to make me happy today. ** _

> _ **I want you to come upstairs after lunch. Practice your music.** _

> _ **At 2 PM, you will shower. Clean yourself thoroughly. I want your ass clean enough to eat. ** _

> _ **Use the box to finish getting ready. ** _

> _ **Be naked and kneeling on the playroom cushion at 3 PM sharp. ** _

> _ **The bluetooth will be on. ** _

> _ **See you at 3, sweetheart. ** _

> _ **Be good. ** _

> _ **-Sir** _

By the time he’s finished, Castiel’s face is bright red. 

He decides not to peek into the box yet. If he looks now, he’ll just obsess over the contents all day. Maybe this way, he’ll have a fighting chance of doing something other than thinking about what Dean might do to him. 

\---- 

“P-please!” the man groans, a bubble of blood popping between his lips with the force of the one word. He gurgles a bit. Then he coughs. 

“Don’t choke on your fucking blood,” Dean growls, backhanding the piece of shit before grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling so they’re looking into each other’s eyes. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

The man tries to speak again. Probably begging some more. Dean’s not interested. He just yanks on the chain he has gripped in his hand, raising the man until nothing but the very tips of his toes are touching the cement floor. The man screams. Dean just stares blankly at him until the man’s energy runs out. 

“Now,” Dean says quietly, starting to pace in front of the man. He checks his watch and frowns. “I only have 5 more hours until I need to be somewhere much nicer than this place, so tick-tock.”

The man chuckles, then spits a glob of red spit at Dean. It doesn’t even make it halfway to him. Dean just looks at the drop on his floor in boredom before slowly dragging his gaze back to the man. “Seriously, asshole. Let’s just get this shit over with.”

“Why? You’re gonna kill me either way!”

“Sure am. But you’re looking at a nice, clean bullet to the head, or me stabbing you and letting you hang like this, bleeding out like a stuck pig.” Dean walks up to the man and presses his hand against his stomach. He digs his nails in until the man is writhing and screaming, drops of blood pooling in the dents as he pulls it away. “It’s a simple question. Why did you want Garth?”

“I told you,” the man pants, tears falling down his cheeks, blood dripping down his stomach. “I - we - we,” his eyes start to flutter closed. 

Dean grabs a bucket of ice water and splashes it on him, glaring at him as he gasps and splutters. “I’m not done with you yet, remember?”

“Jus’ wan’ed scare ‘im.”

“Bullshit.” Dean grabs a knife, twirling it between his fingers. The man begins to violently heave and tremble, his chains rattling with each sharp movement. Dean rolls his eyes. “You look ready to piss yourself just at the sight of my blade. You don’t wanna die like this, man. I know you don’t. Let’s just make this quick and easy, yeah? You get put out of your misery, I get to go fuck my hot fiance. Win-win, right?”

The man sneers. “Fuck your fiance!”

Dean’s body goes perfectly still, the only movement being his eyes as they narrow. “Excuse me?”

“Said _fuck_ your _fiance_.” The man chuckles, the sound raspy and choked. "Gotta say, 'm sad 'm not gonna be there when the demons get 'im. They're gonna fuck 'im 'till nothin's left."

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," Dean orders in a cool, calm voice that means death for anyone in his presence. He presses the blade up against the man's soft cock and pushes down just enough to make him hiss. "Last chance. What did you want with Garth?" 

"Stupid, ya know that? Made one person valuable to two different organizations. You see how stupid that is, right man? Like… that's jus' a neon fuckin' sign for us. We destroy him, 'n it destroys you 'n The Angels. Two for one deal. You made Castiel-"

Dean stops him by shoving his knife into the man's gut and tugging upward, not caring as blood pours out over his own hand. The man stares at him with wide eyes, his mouth parted as he attempts to suck in a breath. "Shouldn't have said his name, fucker." 

Dean spits at him, then chucks the knife to the ground and turns his back on him. He looks over at Aaron and growls, "Let him bleed out. Make damn fucking sure he's _dead_ before letting him down. Then clean this shit up and drop his body off on Crowley's fucking doorstep." 

Aaron nods. "Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Yeah." Dean yanks at his tie, feeling the need to tear something apart. 

Because the piece of shit was right. Castiel is the holy grail to The Demons. He's perfect for them to target. And Dean won't survive. He could lose any of his men - even Benny - and figure out a way to keep going forward. But Castiel? _Fuck, if they get a hold of Castiel… _

"I need you to get in touch with Ash and Charlie and schedule a meeting as soon as possible. We need to up Castiel's security." 

“Yes, sir.”

Dean takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the main wing where his office is. He hurries down the hall and ducks into his office as quickly as he can in case Castel happens to be walking around. Considering the things Dean would like to do to him later, it’d probably not be the best thing if Castiel saw him drenched in blood and furious right now. 

Without bothering to wash up in his bathroom, Dean hits the button on his phone for Benny and puts it on speaker. It rings once before Benny picks up with a simple, “Yeah?” 

“Where’s Cas?”

“Uh - one sec.” There’s some shuffling around in the background of the call for a moment. Then Benny is back. “He’s in the kitchen with Ellen.”

“Okay. Yeah. Okay.” Dean rests his bloody hands on his hips, hangs his head, and closes his eyes. He tries to breathe, but he swears the oxygen isn’t reaching his lungs. _Is this what Castiel feels like when he panics? It’s fucking awful._ “I need you to keep your eyes on him, Ben. Like… keep them on him. No matter what. At least until he’s in the personal wing. And then I want you to be the one to guard the door. Okay?”

Benny hesitates. His voice is lowered when he speaks again, indicating that he’s probably already making his way to Castiel if he hasn’t reached him already. “Everything okay, boss?”

“Yes. Yeah. Fine. Just…” Dean takes a deep breath. He’s one of the most powerful men in the country. In the fucking world. He just murdered a man a few minutes ago. He murders men all the time. Tortures them. People fear him. _Everyone _fucking fears him. He’s Dean fucking Winchester for fucks sake. “I just need to know he’s safe today, okay? It’s irrational. There’s no reason for you to be panicking. Just… I just need to know, okay?”

“Of course, boss. Yes. I won’t let him out of my sight, and I’ll watch the door once he’s safe inside the wing.”

“Good. Yeah. Thanks. Good.” Dean sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. He winces when he feels the blood. He had forgotten that was there. “Did he take his meds?”

“Yup.” 

“And he ate a good breakfast?”

Benny chuckles. “Yes. Scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, a slice of toast, a bowl of fruit, a cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. Took his meds. Helped Ellen clean up. Watched a movie with Ash - half a movie, that is. He was unimpressed with it and went and played the piano in the foyer. Now he’s helping Ellen with lunch.”

“He - he played piano?”

“Yup. Fucking amazing.” 

Dean smiles to himself, feeling overwhelmingly better. He played piano. In front of people. That’s has to be a good fucking sign. Dean has to be doing something right at least. 

“I’ll keep him safe, boss. You just take care of you.”

Dean ends the call and nods to himself. He takes a deep breath. He refocuses. He vows that no matter what, no matter who, no matter how, no one will fucking lay a hand on Castiel. No one. No one but Dean. 

Dean will die before he allows anything otherwise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll, my novel is FINALLY going to be published in 15 days && I can't wait because that means I'll have more time for all of you (: 
> 
> As always, thanks for your patience. I hope this nice, long, smutty chapter was worth the wait <3

Castiel follows his instructions to the T, refusing to be even slightly bratty or disobedient. Not when his orgasm is on the line. Ever since he was edged - or, more accurately, and humiliatingly, edged _himself _\- on Dean’s thigh, he’s been going a little crazy. He swears that he can feel the barely-contained electricity beneath his skin, just begging to be released. 

Once he’s squeaky clean, Castiel walks into the playroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and approaches the bed. The box is even more intimidating than before, but there’s an underlying excitement to it now. Adrenaline. He’s so close to 3 PM. And then Dean’s going to fuck him. 

Castiel is going to lose his virginity. 

Tonight. 

To Dean. 

In less than 2 hours. 

Goosebumps crawl along Castiel’s skin as he picks up the box and carefully pulls at the ribbon. The silk unravels gracefully, falling off to each side of the box. All that’s left is the lid. 

Castiel’s breath hitches when he gets his first glimpse of what’s inside. The silky black cushion has three things nestled on it. 

The first is a collar. It’s black, leather, and about as thick as his finger. In the center of it is a tiny silver loop with a silver dog tag hanging from it. The tag is engraved with one word in elegant script: _Brat_. 

The second is a black silicone anal plug that Castiel swears he’s not going to be able to fit into his hole. Its neck is thin, but the end of it is round and… _big_. Castiel blushes as he realizes it’s probably not actually that big. Especially compared to Dean’s cock. 

The third is a small bottle of lube. 

Castiel groans as he realizes what Dean wants him to do. He wants Castiel to finger himself. To… stretch himself. To put this in himself. The collar isn’t so bad, it’s not like anyone but Dean will see it, but the plug? The thought of having to lie on his back and work himself open is awful and humiliating and his cock is so painfully hard just at the thought that he thinks he could burst. 

It’s at that moment that he realizes there’s a tiny slip of paper tied to the cap of the lube. He nearly laughs when he reads it. He swears, Dean knows him far too well. 

_Don’t you dare touch your cock. It’s mine._

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and groans in frustration. 

He’s doomed. 

\---- 

At 3:01, Dean steps into the playroom. He smirks when he sees his boy kneeling ever so slightly in a different position than he was taught. The usual position would press the end of his plug against the balls of his feet, making it more intense for him. One of these days, Dean will tell him he’s not allowed to adjust. Today, though, he plans on putting the boy through enough as it is. Dean can let this one slide for now. 

“Look at that. Such a beautiful good boy for me.” The praise sends a shudder through Castiel’s body, the tiniest, most adorable sound escaping him as it happens. Smiling, Dean walks until the toes of his boots are a foot away from Castiel’s bare knees and then stops. He drops the stack of clothes he was holding in his hands before moving his attention to his belt. The hunger in Castiel's eyes as the boy watches Dean free his cock is intoxicating. It's even better knowing that hunger isn't going to be satisfied any time soon. Not in the way Castiel will want it to be. 

Dean takes his cock out of his jeans and fists it with one hand. He reaches out with his free hand and grabs Castiel’s hair, yanking the boy up onto his knees and slightly forward. Castiel moans, his lips parting immediately. 

"Does my boy want to suck sir's cock?" Dean teases.

Blushing, Castiel nods.

"Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes what?" 

Castiel ducks his head, but he can't hide the way his face gets even darker as his blush spreads all the way down his neck and to his chest. "I wanna suck your cock, sir."

"Be polite, boy. Look at me." Castiel obeys immediately. The blue of his eyes is barely visible with how blown his pupils are. "Now, look me in the eye and beg me for it." 

"Please, sir…" Castiel starts to look away, but corrects himself before Dean has to. It earns him a genuine smile from Dean. He swears the boy lights up like a fucking firework when he sees it. His reservations melt away after that. "Please sir, let me suck your cock."

"Since you asked so nicely…" Dean sighs as if this is a chore for him. "I suppose you can suck it, then."

"Thank you, sir."

"Mmm." Dean smirks. Then he tightens his hold on Castiel's hair and presses his cock against the boy's lips. When they part, he slowly drags the tip around to trace the outline of his mouth, precum acting like lip gloss to make the boy’s lips shiny. Then, without any warning, Dean shoves into Castiel’s mouth and towards his throat until he's gagging. He eases up for a few seconds before pushing forward again. Castiel whimpers and tries to pull away, but Dean doesn't let him. "Grip my thighs. Tap me with one hand for yellow. Two hands for red. Okay?"

Dean jerks Castiel’s head back until his cock is only pressing against his spit-slick lips. "Yes, sir," Castiel pants. Before he has the last syllable out, Dean is shoving back into his throat. 

Then, for the first time, Dean lets himself go and fucks Castiel’s face. The boy's eyes go impossibly wide, the little bit of blue that's visible brighter than usual. Fat tears start to roll down his face as he chokes and gags. Spit goes everywhere, running down his chin, flying out the sides of his mouth, and soaking Dean's cock. His lips start getting puffy and red as they spend time stretched around his girth. It's a beautiful fucking sight. Dean finds himself mesmerized by it, barely able to focus on how good it feels. 

Okay, that's a lie. He's an excellent multi-tasker. Dean can definitely appreciate how good it feels.

It feels fucking phenomenal. 

"You're doing so well, sweetheart," Dean gasps, speeding up the snap of his hips. "Such a good little cocksucker for me. Perfect. So fucking perfect."

Castiel moans, his eyes fluttering closed and his body relaxing under the praise. Dean grins. He doesn't think he'll ever get sick of witnessing that reaction.

It's only a minute or so later that Dean's already nearing his orgasm. He decides to test his boy a little further than planned by pulling him in close and holding his head in place, Dean's cock nestled in his panicking throat. He groans at the sensation of the muscles contracting around him as Castiel tries to figure out what to do.

"Shhh," Dean whispers, using his free hand to stroke the side of Castiel's hair that isn't being pulled at the moment. "Don't try to breathe. You can't. Just relax. Give into it. Sir will decide when you need air."

Castiel makes a sound of protest and tries to get his head away from Dean's crotch. The boy's hands stay firmly in place on his thigh though. Tightening his grip, Dean takes the hand that was being gentle a moment ago and uses it to cup the back of Castiel's head. The boy whimpers as Dean uses the new leverage to push deeper. He stares up at Dean with tear-filled eyes, his pretty dark eyelashes soaked and glistening. 

"You look fucking wrecked," Dean whispers. "You're gorgeous like this, Castiel." 

He pulls the boy's head back long enough for him to suck in air through his nose, then shoves him down again. More tears fall down his cheeks, but Castiel continues to stare up at Dean like he's the greatest thing in the fucking world.

Dean grins. 

"So good for me, sweetheart. Come now. Take another breath." Dean guides Castiel back, letting him fill his lungs again. Then Dean starts to fuck his face like before. Within seconds, he's feeling his balls tighten and his stomach twist. "Fuck. Gonna come. Swallow it all, understood? Show me how much of a cum slut you are." 

Castiel moans, nodding the best he can as his face gets fucked, and Dean loses it. He pushes in deep and spills down the boy's throat until he's emptied. 

Panting, Dean pulls back and wipes his cock clean against Castiel's cheek. The boy shudders, his eyes darting away in shame. His poor cock is bright red and standing at attention, begging to be noticed. Dean ignores it, tucking his satisfied cock into his jeans and fixing his belt. He steps away and taps the toe of his boot against the clothes he brought in earlier. “Get dressed. Don't wipe your face clean.” 

Castiel sways forward before his eyes flick up to Dean. “Sir?” he asks, his voice scratchy from his throat getting fucked. 

“Get dressed.” Dean gestures at the clothes. “Not a hard command, is it?”

“N-no, sir.” Castiel frowns, but he reaches for the clothes and pushes to his feet. When he sees that Dean included one of the lace panties that they bought at the store, his cheeks turn red again. He ducks his head and pulls the panties on with trembling hands. Then the tight dark wash jeans. Then the cream colored sweater. 

“Come on.” Dean says in a clipped voice, fighting a smile. “Your boots and coat will be at the front door. Let’s go.”

Castiel just stares at Dean, clearly convinced he’s misunderstanding. 

“Do I need to throw you over my shoulder and carry you? Because that would fall under misbehaving. Do you want to misbehave today, boy? Is that the choice you’re making?”

“No, sir!” Castiel all but shouts, shaking his head violently. “No. I wanna be good, sir.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I - but - “ Castiel’s right hand flutters up to his throat, his face once again filling with color. “Sir?”

Dean steps forward, reaching up and stroking his knuckles along the boy’s cheek. He wants to enjoy this, to fuck with his boy a bit, but he wants Castiel to enjoy it in his own way as well. That means the boy needs to relax. “Do you trust sir?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispers, leaning into the touch. “More than anything, sir.”

“Then trust that I would never put you in a situation that would make you unsafe or uncomfortable.” Dean winks. “Uncomfortable in a bad way, of course. Considering your cock is hard as a rock right now,” Dean pauses, running his hand along the ridge of Castiel’s cock. He chuckles when Castiel moans. “I think you like when you’re uncomfortable in a good way. You want to go out with this collar on, your cheek streaked with spit and cum, don’t you slut? You want everyone to see you. To know that you belong to me. That you’re nothing but a slutty little brat.”

Castiel stares down at the floor, saying nothing. His deep blush says enough. Dean laughs again. 

“And if they knew you had a plug in your needy little hole?” he whistles, shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Should we tell everyone we see that you’re stuffed full for me? Hmmm?”

The look Castiel gives him is half-pleading for mercy and half-pleading for more. “W-whatever you, uh… you want sir.”

“Exactly. Now you get it. Whatever _I _want. You aren’t important.” Dean walks forward, backing Castiel up until the boy is pinned against the wall. He presses his thigh against Castiel’s denim-clad erection. His brat throws his head back and whines. “Now, we’re going to go do something very important today. You’ll need to be on your best behavior, and you’ll need to pay attention. Understood?" 

After gaping at Dean for a few seconds, Castiel carefully nods. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Let's go, then."

\---- 

By the time they get to the shooting range, a separate building on Dean's property that Castiel had no idea existed, Castiel's heart is beating so hard he can barely hear the gunshots through the exterior walls. Dean presses a red button beside the door and a buzzer sounds. Within seconds, the building goes silent. Castiel sees why when they enter, Dean's hand on the small of his back to push him forward. Red lights are lit up above each aisle in the building, and everyone in there has put their guns down on the metal tables in front of them. 

As they walk by each hunter, Dean takes time to stop and say hello. Castiel knows why he's doing it. Even though Dean and everyone else never acknowledges him, he understands that he's being noticed. He's caught more than one hunter staring at him when Dean is distracted. It's humiliating. He had thought that his saving grace would be that the engraved tag is too subtle to read from far away, but Dean fixed that by making sure every single person in the building saw his collar up close. There's no way any of them didn't see the _Brat_ written there, labeling Castiel. 

Add in that his lips feel puffy, his cheek is streaked with dry spit and cum, his ass is stuffed full of a plug that loves to tease his prostate, his throat feels raw, and his cock is so hard it’s nearly bringing tears to his eyes, and Castiel is having the worst-best day ever. 

Then Dean sets him in front of a metal table and offers him a gun. 

_A gun_.

Castiel doesn't take it, instead just staring at the thing like it might bite him. "I've never…"

"Yeah. I figured." Dean smiles at him, thankfully not upset at Castiel's hesitation. "You need to be able to protect yourself, just in case. I don't plan on you ever needing to, but I'd feel better knowing you could if you had to." 

Figuring that's fair, and thinking that he’d probably feel better too, Castiel nods and reaches for the gun. It’s much lighter than he expected. Dean explains why before he even asks. "There's no magazine in it yet, and the barrels empty. I'm going to show you how to hold it and handle it first, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

“Here, hold it like this with your hands here and here.” Dean arranges Castiel’s hands until Castiel is holding the gun how Dean wants him to be. “This is the safety, this is the trigger, this is the rack. You’re going to pull this back to rack it, which will get a bullet in the chamber. It’s a little hard, you need to put some effort in, but you’ll get used to it. After you have a bullet in the chamber, all you have to do is switch the safety off with your thumb just like this, and pull the trigger. This gun empties the magazine without needing to be racked each time, so once that first bullet is in the chamber, you can keep squeezing the trigger without worrying about doing it again. Make sense?”

“I… think so?”

Dean’s lips curve into a smile Castiel can’t quite interpret. “Want to see me do it?”

“Please, sir.”

Dean pulls on a pair of ear protection before placing another on Castiel’s ears. Castiel can’t help but smirk at the _Winchester _on it. It’s the brand of the gear, not Dean’s last name, but he knows that’s probably why Dean bought them. 

“Okay. So, this is the magazine.” Dean says loudly as he holds up a rectangular hunk of metal that has bullets stacked inside it. He places the magazine at the bottom of the gun and shoves it in hard until it clicks into place. With his left hand, he grabs the top of the gun and pulls it back - racking it, as Castiel remembers him saying. Dean looks at Castiel, making sure he’s watching, then arranges his hands exactly as he had with Castiel’s and flips the safety off with his thumb. 

After a moment's hesitation where he once again looks at Castiel to make sure he’s paying attention, Dean lifts his arms and aims. He pulls the trigger and begins to empty the magazine into the target that’s too far away for Castiel to see clearly. Then he places the gun on the metal table and takes his ear muffs off. Castiel does the same, watching as Dean presses a button that brings the target closer to them. Every bullet hit in the exact same spot, the center of the target’s forehead. It looks like just one big bullet since they all blend together. 

“Wow,” Castiel whispers. He shivers as he realizes the man who did that is the man who is going to fuck him tonight. The plug in his ass suddenly feels larger and heavier. His cock throbs. He feels his cheeks heat up and hopes Dean is too distracted to notice. 

“You ready to try?”

“Ummm… sure?”

“Just aim for his belly. Anywhere in this area,” Dean says, pointing his finger at the torso and moving it to gesture at the whole thing. “Anywhere in there will make me happy. Can you try for me, sweetheart?”

Castiel looks at the target with wide eyes. “I can try.”

“I think you’re forgetting what context you’re here in.” 

“What?”

Dean grabs Castiel’s cheeks with one hand and squeezes, making him gasp. “You’re still my sub right now. We haven’t stopped our scene. You’re wearing my collar. Your ass is stuffed with my plug. Your cock is poking out of your jeans right now because of me. Show me some fucking respect, brat, and address me properly.”

“I’m sorry, sir!” Castiel whimpers, looking down at the ground. “I didn’t mean to misbehave, I promise. I swear, sir.”

“You’re okay. I forgive you, sweetheart. This once. Don’t forget again. Understood?”

A tingling sensation travels up Castiel’s spine as he nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, here’s another magazine. Load the gun and hit the target. You’ll look through this right here to aim. Line up the dot with where you want the bullet to go, keep your arms steady, and prepare yourself for the kick. Don’t let it toss you back.” 

He puts Castiel’s ear protection on again and hits the button to put the target back in place. Then he nods to show Castiel he can begin. 

The gun is so much heavier than he thought it would be now that it's full of bullets. He has to adjust his hands a few times before he feels confident enough to raise the gun and aim. His arms shake as he tries to steady himself. Sir steps up behind him and curls his hands around Castiel’s, adding stability and strength. Castiel breathes a sigh of relief. Feeling more confident now, he takes a final breath and squeezes the trigger. 

The weapon kicks back like sir had warned, but with sir standing behind him and holding the gun with him, it barely affects Castiel. He hears a loud, “Keep going,” through his ear muffs and starts again. He goes until the entire magazine is emptied. 

When they bring the target back, Castiel sags. Only two bullets even hit the paper, one in the groin, the other in the shoulder. He pouts and looks at sir. “Hey, you got his penis. I’ll say this - that’d bring me down.” 

Castiel laughs. 

Another magazine is given to him and they start over. 

After going through 4 more magazines, Castiel finally manages to get all of his bullets at least somewhere on the paper, and two shots in the torso like he was told. 

With the 5th magazine comes a new challenge. 

Just as Castiel is raising the gun to aim, no longer needing sir’s help, his plug begins vibrating. He falls forward, gasping in surprise. Sir gets a hand on the gun to make sure it stays pointed towards the target and wraps one arm around Castiel’s torso to force him to stand back up. The buzzing in his ass grows more intense as one of his ear muffs is lifted for sir to murmur in his ear, “You’ll sometimes be distracted when you have to defend yourself. Let’s practice.”

Castiel whimpers and shakes his head, knowing he can’t do it. “Too hard,” he pants, squirming as if he can escape the buzzing on his prostate. 

Sir bites his earlobe hard and growls, “Complain again and I’ll yank your pants down and smack your ass raw in front of every man here.”

Groaning, Castiel adjusts his grip on his gun and forces himself to do as told. 

Not a single bullet hits the paper. 

They try again. The plug is at the same level, but now sir is reaching around and groping him through the front of his pants, Castiel able to feel how the front of his panties are getting soaked in precum. 

Not a single bullet hits the paper.

“We won’t be leaving here until you can prove to me you can keep yourself safe, boy. Better get your shit together.”

Sir nudges his arms until they’re back in place to shoot. Then the plug in Castiel’s ass is turned up at least another notch, if not more. Sir continues rubbing his cock through his jeans as he trails sloppy kisses and nibbles along the side of Castiel’s throat. 

Castiel whines. It’s not fair. 

He accidentally says that. He says it’s not fair. He didn’t fucking mean to, but it falls from his mouth anyway. 

Sir’s hand tightens painfully against his cock, making him cry out. “Did you just complain?”

Castiel locks up. “No! No, sir-”

“Don’t lie. Lying will make it worse, boy.”

Panting in fear and arousal, Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and whispers, “I’m so sorry, sir.”

“Not yet.” Sir takes the gun from him and unloads it easily. Then he rips his ear protection off and clears the metal table in front of them so it’s empty. Castiel gasps when he's shoved onto it, his chest against the cool metal, his body bent over to present his ass. “You will be.”

“Sir-” One of the rags used to clean the guns is stuffed into Castiel’s mouth before he can say anything else. Something cool and hard is pressed against his palm next. 

“Drop the bullet to safeword,” sir orders in his ear, his tone evil and distant. 

Castiel whines, humiliated and anxious and turned on beyond belief. It gets worse when sir yanks his pants down in one quick jerk, exposing his barely-there lace panties and plugged ass to the rest of the facility. He knows logically that the men here can’t see him very well. There are little half-walls between each table. Still, a good portion of his ass dangling off of the edge can be seen, and he knows for sure that sir is in full view as he stands back. 

Castiel starts to bury his face in his hands but sir grabs his wrists and ties them with the leash he had used for his collar. 

“Oh, is my little brat embarrassed?” sir coos loudly. It earns a few laughs from the men nearby. Others far away are still shooting like nothing is happening. Maybe they know, maybe they don’t. Either way, they’re here to practice shooting, and that’s what they’re doing. The mere thought is humiliating. Castiel can feel how hot his face is, knowing it must be bright red. 

It gets worse when he hears the distinct sound of leather being pulled through belt loops. 

The first hit catches Castiel by surprise. It comes without warning, and it’s much harder than he expected. Castiel writhes pathetically against the table and cries into his gag. He’s hit again. And again. And again. Sir is moving fast, barely leaving him time to recover between hits. Castiel swears he can feel every pair of eyes on him now, even if he can’t see anything but the targets ahead of him and the walls on either side of his head. 

The plug speeds up until Castiel is gurgling against the cloth in his mouth. God, he needs to come. He needs to come so bad. 

As if sir knows - which he probably does because sir _always knows _\- he grabs Castiel’s balls tight and yanks them back through his underwear. The pain is enough to pull him back from the edge. Hot tears fall down his cheeks as he sobs. 

It takes a second for Castiel to realize the spanking stopped. His wrists are gently freed. Then his mouth. The plug turns off. His pants are pulled up. He’s brought back to his feet, sir’s hands resting on his shoulders to make sure he doesn’t fall. The bullet is taken from his hand. 

“Such a good boy for me,” sir whispers as he turns Castiel to face him and begins brushing his thumbs over his cheeks to collect his tears. “My good sweet boy.”

Castiel just sniffles, feeling dazed and horny and torn between coming and sobbing. 

“You want to get fucked now? Want me to make you come?” When Castiel’s eyes go wide, sir chuckles and shakes his head. “Not here. Back in the playroom. Just us, sweetheart. You want that?”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel says with a frantic nodding of his head. 

He’s being led out of the facility. Eyes fall on him, he can feel them, but Castiel is far too out of it to care anymore. He thinks he hears sir tell someone to clean up their station. All that matters is that he’s hearing sir, and that he’s feeling sir’s hands guiding him. Castiel swears all he does is blink once and they’re in their personal wing. He blinks again and they’re in the playroom. 

Sir leads him to the bed, his movements gentle, the skin of his hands rough even as his touches are soft. 

Castiel watches in a daze as sir ties him with the same pretty red rope they used last time. It’s a similar pattern, though slightly less constricting and it’s not attached to the ring above to keep him in place. 

“I’m going to edge you,” sir announces in that raspy, low voice of his. Castiel whines. That’s the last thing he wants after all of this teasing. The very last thing. His reaction makes sir chuckle. “Oh, you don’t like that, do you sweetheart?”

“Please, sir,” he begs, wiggling his ass the best he can. The rope fights him as he moves. It’s a distraction, drawing Castiel’s mind to his body instead of the teasing that’s about to occur. The rope against his skin, pretty and red and tight, makes him feel safe and secure. Every time he moves - every time he even breathes - the rope constricts him and he’s reminded of Dean. He likes it an awful lot. 

“This is a cock and ball ring.” Dean sits in front of Castiel and shows him what looks to be a black infinity sign. “I’ll put this at the base of your cock and around your balls, and it will keep you from being able to come. Then I’m going to explore you, just like I promised. I’m going to lick you. Suck you. Maybe bite here or there. I’m going to drive you wild. Tease you until you can barely breathe. Until all you can do is beg helplessly for my cock. And _then_, I’m going to fuck you.”

Castiel just stares at him with wide blue eyes, his lips parted as he takes in shallow breaths.

“I’ll use my cock to push you to the edge. Over and over and over. That’s why it’s called edging. But you won’t tip over that edge, will you boy? Not until I give you permission. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll - I’ll be good. Won’t come.”

“Good. That’s good.” Dean begins to secure the cock and ball ring around him, making Castiel gasp from the slight contact of skin against skin. It feels phenomenal. He’s already so turned on, everything heightened and overwhelming, that just the slightest touch is enough to make his whole body quiver. “Because I’d be very disappointed if you come before I say you can.”

Disappointing Dean.

Wow. That’s… that’s the last damn thing Castiel wants to do. He wants to be good. So good for him. He wants to make him happy, not disappointed.

“I’ll be good,” Castiel promises. “I’ll be good, sir.”

“I know you will. Always so good.” Dean leans forward, locking their lips in a kiss that takes Castiel’s breath away. He’s already panting by the time Dean pulls back and stands up. “Say yellow if you’re going to come, but I want you to be close, boy. Very close. Let yourself come to that edge. Don’t run from it.”

Feeling anxious about whether or not he can actually do this, Castiel just bites his bottom lip and nods.

"Let the pleasure happen to you, but don’t let yourself be enslaved by it. Remember that you don’t belong to it—you belong to _me_. Your orgasm, your pleasure, belongs to me. I’m the one with all the power. Remember that.”

“Yes, sir.” 

A pillow is slipped in front of him, then Dean gently pushes him forward so his ass is up in the air. The pillow makes the position slightly more comfortable, but it’s still an awkward position to be in. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to stay in it for long.

Then Dean begins kissing along his bare skin, and Castiel forgets about everything other than _sir_. 

\---- 

Dean’s a sadist. 

A total fucking sadist.

In his defense, he warned the boy. 

“Please!” Castiel sobs, his breaths water-logged as he writhes against the pillow beneath him. He’s been humping the thing like a dog in heat and still hasn’t managed to come with that cock and ball ring tight around him. It’s adorable and sexy as fuck and every time Dean chuckles, it makes his boy whine in humiliation. Dean’s always loved edging, but this is a whole new level. Edging Castiel specifically is like stepping one foot into fucking heaven - probably the only time that’ll happen, considering Dean’s lifestyle. “Please, sir!”

Ignoring the desperate little slut, Dean pulls out his two fingers from Castiel’s hole and replaces them with a dildo that’s two inches shorter than his cock and much slimmer. Castiel cants his hips and keens when it’s shoved into him, his hole barely resisting. 

Castiel tries his best to fuck himself back against the toy with the little amount of wiggle room available with his rope, letting loose tiny helpless gasps as he moves. Dean has to reach down and grip the base of his cock tight just to soothe the massive ache the sight brings on. That’s the worst part about edging Castiel, apparently. Other subs, Dean could edge them for hours and just be turned on by it. With Castiel, however, it feels like Dean’s fucking edging himself. He’s pretty damn sure he won’t make it much longer. Not that he thinks Castiel will complain about that. 

Whining pathetically, Castiel looks over his shoulder the best he can and begs, “Please fuck me, sir! Please, please, please!” 

“Fuck.” Dean takes a deep breath, feeling his control slipping through his fingers. He twists the fake cock in his boy’s hole and tries to assess. “You’re not ready, baby. You need more prep.”

“Noooo,” he half-begs, half-sobs, fat tears running down his cheeks as he keeps staring back at Dean. “Please, sir.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Please. Please. Please please please please fuck me. Need it. I need it. Need you so bad, sir. Please. God, sir, please! Need - I need-”

“Okay,” Dean says with a soft chuckle, brushing his fingertips along his boy’s red ass cheeks. “Shhh, shhh, shhh. Okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. Sir has you. Sir’s right here, sweetheart.”

Castiel’s head falls forward in clear relief, his breaths coming slightly steadier now. His whole body shakes and shivers and jerks in anticipation. 

Continuing to hush his sweet, gorgeous, sexy as fuck boy, Dean pulls his knife out and easily frees Castiel from his rope. He takes the time to rub each mark left behind, partly because it will help them not bruise as badly, and partly because Castiel still needs a bit more time to calm down in order for him to be able to fully enjoy this. 

When Dean gently guides Castiel onto his back, tossing the pillow to the floor, he finds the boy staring up at him in awe. He’s flushed and breathless, big blue eyes wide as they take in every inch of Dean’s naked body. It’s the first time Castiel has seen him without a trace of clothing on. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the boy likes what he sees. 

Dean pours lube into his palm and begins to slowly stroke his cock with it, wanting to be dripping wet to help his boy feel the best he can. Castiel starts to reach out for him now that his hands are free but stops himself. Dean quickly helps him out by taking his right hand and bringing it to rest on his chest, right over Dean’s racing heart. It’s such a small thing, but it makes Castiel gasp.

“I love you,” Dean whispers without meaning to. He can’t get himself to regret it, though. Not in the least. 

Castiel’s breath catches in his throat, the boy blinking quickly like he’s trying to see better. He takes a moment before slowly, cautiously, whispering back, “I love you, too.”

Something transforms inside of Dean’s chest. Something impossible to explain. Something profound. It’s like he finally steps into himself. Finally fits in his skin. 

“Really?” Dean asks, unable to help himself. He has to be sure. This is too good to be true. Way too fucking good to be true. Why would someone as beautiful and kind and innocent as Castiel love someone like him?

“Really.” Castiel’s fingers flex gently against Dean’s bare chest as if he can reach inside and touch his heart. “I love you.”

Dean sighs happily. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Dean Winchester.” Castiel grins. “I really fucking love you.”

Dean’s head hangs down and his eyes flutter closed. Both hands come to rest on Castiel’s slim hips, holding him in place. Then Dean pushes forward and begins to press into Castiel. When Dean looks up at Castiel again, his blue eyes are blazing. “Color?”

“Keep going,” Castiel begs before adding a breathy, “Green, sir.”

After pressing a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips, Dean shifts his body and continues pressing forward in small, smooth strokes that bring him deeper and deeper inside the boy each time. Dean sighs when he’s nearly all the way inside him, his hands trembling slightly where they hold Castiel. “You good, sweetheart?”

Castiel blinks up at him with tear-filled blue eyes, looking almost shocked. He opens and closes his mouth a few times like he can’t figure out what to say. Dean chuckles softly. The boy doesn’t look upset or in pain, just mesmerized. Dean can handle mesmerized. 

“Come back to me, sweetheart,” Dean whispers, running gentle hands along the boy’s soft skin. 

The touch seems to help bring Castiel back to the moment. His ass clenches, his eyes widening. With pink cheeks, and a dazed look in his eyes, he whispers, “_Oh_.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Oh _god_,” the boy breathes, his hands moving so he can cling to Dean. “Oh god that’s _good_.”

Chuckling darkly, Dean grabs the boy’s wrists and presses them together. He uses some of the scrap of rope from the bed and ties his wrists before placing them above Castiel’s head on the mattress. “Keep those there, or you’ll be in trouble. After all of this work, you still won’t get to come.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” Dean grabs one of Castiel’s ass cheeks and lifts, then pushes his weight forward so he’s hovering over him. The movement sends Dean in the final inch so he’s bottoming out. Dean hangs his head between his shoulders, trying to keep control of himself. Trying to remember this is a virgin beneath him. A nervous, innocent, beautiful virgin that he loves. That loves _him_. “Color sweetheart?”

"Mmmm." Castiel peeks up at him through his lashes, nibbling on his bottom lip. It doesn't go unnoticed by Dean that he's tentatively rolling his hips to get Dean’s cock to move inside him. When he catches Dean watching with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk, Castiel’s face goes red and he stills. "G-green, sir."

"Very green, aren't you?" Dean taunts.

"Sooooo green. So green, sir."

Dean growls as his final shreds of self-control dissolve. He digs his fingers into Castiel's slim hips and begins to fuck into him, doing his best to stay at a steady pace until the boy adjusts. He could watch the sight beneath him forever. His sexy boy getting all worked up, needy cock trying to spill but unable to, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling erratically, blue eyes wide and locked onto him. 

"Fuck, you already take my cock so well, sweetheart." Dean grins down at his boy. "Your body already knows exactly who it belongs to, doesn't it?"

Castiel mumbles something unintelligible and nods. 

Gripping one of Castiel’s ankles, Dean presses the boy's slim leg back until he’s fucking straight into his prostate. Castiel shrieks and tries to pull away. When he realizes he's not going anywhere, he looks up at Dean with pleading eyes. "P-pleeeease!"

"Please what?" 

"Please, sir! Pleee - please - oh - oh - oh God- _sir!_"

Dean chuckles and fucks him harder. Faster. He wants to fucking ruin Castiel. He wants him sobbing and drooling and unaware of anything else in the world but _Dean_. 

"Feel good?" Dean asks as he watches Castiel’s pretty blue eyes roll into the back of his head. 

All the boy manages is a high-pitched, "Siiiiiiir!"

"What's wrong, baby boy?" Dean asks with a fake pout. "Whats the matter, hmmm?" 

"P-pleeeease sir, needa - nee - commmmmmme!"

"Oh is that the problem? Do you need to come sweetheart?"

Castiel looks up at him in relief, nodding quickly. "Y-yes. So bad. Ga - siiiirrrr."

"You wanna come for me, sweetheart?"

"Yeeees, sir!"

Dean reaches down, toying with the cock and balls ring without actually removing it. "You wanna come on sir's cock?"

"Yes! Yes, sir, pleeeaasee!" 

"No."

"I - but -" Castiel shakes his head like he's clearing it and blinks a few times. "Wha-?"

"I said no. You don't get to come. Not yet."

Castiel shudders violently. "Sir, noooooo!" 

"You feel so fucking good around my cock, sweetheart. Such a perfect little slut hole for me to use." Castiel sobs harder, barely able to breathe. Dean ignores him. "Does this feel better than my fingers, sweetheart? Than the toys? The plug? Is sir’s cock the best you’ve had?”

Castiel whines and thrashes. “Siiiiiirr!” 

“What do you say?” Dean growls, tightening his grip until he knows there will be bruises on his boy’s skin. Marks. Claims. “What do you say to sir for making you feel better than ever before?”

“Th - th-” Castiel pauses to release a wrecked sob. “Than’ y’. Thank y’. Th-” 

“That’s it. That’s my grateful little slut. You’re doin’ so well, sweetheart. You take my cock so well already. Like you were fucking made for it. Were you made for my cock, sweetheart?”

“Than’ you,” Castiel says again, probably unaware that the topic has shifted. “Thank - thanks’y - th - than’ - thank y’ - ooooo - than’ you - thank-”

“You wanna know why your hole takes my cock so good?” 

“Nggggh.”

“Because your body already knows who it belongs to, Castiel. Your hole knows who it belongs to. It’s already mine, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t you take my cock when you’re mine, right sweetheart?”

“Yeeeesss, sssssir!” Castiel starts to raise his hands before dropping them back on the bed again. His face and chest are flushed. His eyes are continuously spilling tears. His poor cock is leaking like a fucking faucet despite the restraints on it. His whole body is trembling and shuddering. He starts whimpering, “Thank you,” again, over and over and fucking over again. 

He’s ruined. 

He’s wrecked. 

He’s _Dean’s_.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Dean coos, reaching a hand down to his sweet boy’s cock and ball ring. “Alright, you can come. Sir wants you to come. Can you do that for sir? When sir frees your little cock and balls, are you gonna come for sir? Are you gonna show him how good he’s making you feel?”

Castiel is nodding frantically, saying, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, sir. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, please, please, sir, needa’come, sir, god, sir, please, thank you, sir, sir, sir-”

Chuckling, Dean ignores the boy’s desperate pleas and focuses on gently sliding the latch on the toy so nothing is caught or hurt as the rings around his cock and balls open. The moment the toy falls, forgotten against Castiel’s hip, Castiel shoots his load. 

“Goooood boy,” Dean coos. “That’s a good boy.”

Mewling, eyes falling shut, body going lax, Castiel shoots a second time. It’s just one more strip of cum but it does wild things to Dean. He grips the boy tight and jerks into him twice more before holding as deep as he can and spilling into Castiel’s fluttering hole. His body shakes and trembles with the orgasm, his mind going foggy. He’s never experienced anything like it. For just a moment, he reaches a different space. Like fucking subspace but not. When he blinks back into focus, he finds Castiel lying still, his breathing calm and slow. His pretty long eyelashes flutter on his cheeks. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Dean whispers, not sure if the boy is even awake. He doesn’t care. He can’t help it. “So perfect, sweetheart. I love you so fucking much.”

Dean continues murmuring praise and declarations of love as he draws the scene to a close. He gently unties Castiel’s wrists and rubs them for a minute. Then he pulls out and cleans himself up with a towel nearby before getting a warm, wet cloth to use on Castiel. 

Once Castiel is all clean, Dean tucks his bunny into his arms and scoops him up so they can go to their bedroom. The boy nuzzles his neck before murmuring, “W’ goin’, sir?”

“To bed, sweetheart.”

“Bed in’there.”

“I like our bed better.”

“Mmm.” He hugs his bunny tight and makes a little noise as if he’s just discovered it. “Bun.”

“Of course I brought your bunny. He’s your favorite.”

“You my fav’or.”

Dean smiles, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot and slipping inside. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re my favorite too.”

“No juice,” the little shit says with a satisfied tone. “No food.”

“Ooooh, you think you got out of that, huh?”

“Mhhhhmmm.”

“Good thing I made sure a little cooler of juice and some snacks were put in our room tonight, hey?”

Castiel slumps in his arms. Even though Dean can’t see him, he can tell he’s pouting. He’s pouting very hard. 

Chuckling, Dean lays his boy down on the mattress and props him up on the pillows. He kisses his forehead before grabbing a capri-sun and some chocolate out of the cooler. His sweet boy makes faces at him for the few minutes it takes for Dean to be satisfied, but then he’s definitely happy as Dean finally gives in and crawls into bed beside him. 

“Love you,” Castiel whispers the moment his arms and legs are wound around Dean. “We said that, right?”

“Right. We said that.” Dean kisses the crown of his head. “I love you, Cas. So fucking much.”

“Mmmm.” Castiel perks, looking around with a frown. 

Dean’s heart skips. “What’s wrong?”

“Bunny?”

“Oh.” Dean rolls them over and reaches to the floor where Castiel had accidentally dropped his bunny while being cruelly force-fed. He presses the stuffed animal between their naked bodies, grinning when Castiel does an adorable little wiggle of joy. “Better?”

“The best,” Castiel slurs, eyes closing as he sinks into Dean’s hold and the mattress. “Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Get some rest.”

“Love you.”

Dean smirks. “Love you too.”

“Lots.”

“Lots.”

“Hmmmm.” Castiel giggles under his breath before sighing happily. “Love you.”

Realizing this is going to be how they fall asleep today, Dean closes his eyes and obliges his boy. “Love you too.” 

They go three more rounds before Castiel slurs a final, “Love’y,” and falls fast asleep in his arms. 

Dean joins him just seconds later, one final thought flitting through his mind just before slipping under. He had no fucking idea it was humanly possible to be this happy. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wedding planning... at the expense of Dean's men (;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, I'm sorry! Figured you all deserved at least some sort of update! <3

“Wow,” Castiel whispers, his eyes darting around the entertainment room. It looks like a wedding expo threw up in it. There are dresses and suits and tuxes. There are bouquets and cakes and cupcakes. There are corkboards placed sporadically around the room, all with different themes. 

Castiel cautiously steps further into the room. 

There’s a rack of veils. Crowns. Top hats. 

Ash is standing proudly in the middle of it all. Coming from where she was walking behind Castiel, Charlie moves to stand beside Ash. “What do you think?” she asks excitedly, her arms going out to her sides. 

“Wow.” 

“You said that already,” Ash points out, a frown tugging at his lips. “Do you hate it?”

“I mean… what exactly is it?”

Charlie rolls her eyes at him. “It’s your wedding planning day!” 

Panic swells in Castiel’s chest. “I have to plan it all… today?”

“No. It’s not like that.” Ash hits her on the arm, his tone like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “Ugh, Charlie. Dean said not to stress him out!” 

“I didn’t think it would!”

“Obviously it is!”

“Obviously I can see that, Ash!”

“Obviously you should fix it!”

“Oh, and is it obvious how I should fix it?”

“Well, you could-”

“Hey!” Benny barks from the doorway, making all three of them startle and turn to look at him. He gives Charlie and Ash a cold glare before turning his attention to Castiel. The moment his eyes are on him, they go soft and warm. “You good, Cas?”

Castiel swallows hard. “I… think so.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just overwhelmed.”

“Okay.” Benny walks forward and places his big hand on the back of Castiel’s neck. He gently squeezes the muscles there, and it settles something in Castiel. It’s as if Dean couldn’t be here, so he sent the next best thing; the man he trusts with his life. “Dean wanted you to get to pick out everything you like without having to go to one of those huge ass expos where everyone is trying to convince you to buy something or try something or wear something or god knows what else.”

After a long, drawn out pause where Castiel can’t find anything to say, Benny sighs. “Dean didn’t ask you if you want to plan the wedding, did he?”

“No…”

“Figures.” Benny sighs again, this one even more dramatic. “Do you want to plan your wedding?”

“Maybe?” Castiel steps away from Benny and slowly approaches one of the suits like it might bite him. It’s a darker blue. He wonders if it would bring out his eyes. If maybe Dean would like that. He wants to be extra beautiful for Dean that day. Pretty. Castiel hates to admit it, but he likes when Dean calls him pretty an awful lot. 

Charlie jumps on Castiel’s possible thawing toward the wedding planning idea. “All you have to do is pick out the maybes from the hell no’s. Anything you like, you put a sticky note on.”

Castiel frowns at the pad of sticky notes Charlie holds out. “And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, once the sticky notes are all over the place. What happens then?”

Ash jumps in. “Then I’ll start planning with you! Today, or a different day if you’d rather. Whenever! You and Dean need to set the date. He’s running out of time with the deal with your father.”

Now this is when Castiel decides he must be in some wacky ass dream. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re planning the wedding? Like you’re the wedding planner? The… official wedding planner?”

“Yup!” Ash offers him a business card. On the front, it reads: Ash Security - Ash Saves Your Ass with his number and email below it. On the back, it reads: Ash Wedding Planner - Ash Delivers Class with his number and email below it. 

“Wow,” Castiel says for the third time. Then again. “Wow.”

“I’m really very good.”

“I believe you.” It might be a lie… yeah… that’s a lie. Castiel doesn’t believe him. How in the world could Ash be good at planning weddings? 

As if Ash can sense his trepidation, he grabs an album from the couch and hands it to Castiel with a proud smile. “My work.” 

Castiel begins flipping through it. He’s stunned. To the point where he thinks maybe he should sit down. They’re all extravagant weddings with elegant tables and bright flowers. One is in what looks like a forest. Another is on a cliff overlooking the lake. There’s one in an open field. One in a gorgeous old barn. One in at a log-cabin lodge. There are autumn weddings. Winter weddings. Spring and summer weddings. There are classic themes like whites and creams and low lighting. There are crazy themes like a kickass full rainbow wedding for two men in glittery suits. There are simple altars. There are altars covered in flowers. Covered in tulle. Covered in twinkle lights. 

“Wow.”

“Wow good?” Ash asks. 

“Wow good.” Castiel hands the album back, looking around the room again. “So I pick stuff out and you do the hard parts?”

Ash and Charlie both laugh before Ash nods. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“And I don’t have to make phone calls or go to shops or, like, talk to anyone?”

“Well, it’d be nice if you talk to me. But yes.”

“Cool.” Castiel perks up. The room is suddenly fun instead of overwhelming. He gets a glimpse of the sparkly glitter suit and grins. “How much would Dean hate me if I made him wear that?”

With a wicked grin, Benny sits down in a chair - after picking up a midnight blue and deep purple mood board that was on it which he places on his lap for Castiel to be able to continue viewing - and announces, “I am so skipping my next meeting. This is going to be great.” 

\---- 

“Hey, Ellen?” Dean asks as he cautiously walks into the kitchen. 

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen… anyone?”

Ellen looks up from her dinner preparations. “You’ll have to be more specific, sir.”

“Like my heads of security. My second hand man. My enforcers. My team. My fiance.” Dean waves a hand through the silent air. “You know, the people that live in this large mansion that is suddenly strangely quiet.” 

“Oh.” Ellen grins. “They’re in the entertainment room.”

“Still?” 

“Yes.”

“All of them…?”

Ellen’s grin widens. “Yes.”

“Oh boy.” Dean shrugs out of his suit jacket and places it over the back of a dining chair. He loosens his tie and rolls his sleeves as he makes his way to the entertainment room, which is really more of a large section of the house than just a room. 

What Dean finds is… well, he’d say surprising but he shouldn’t even be surprised because every single person in this house is already obsessed with his fiance and the fact that this is what Castiel’s day of wedding planning has turned into just… really shouldn’t be surprising. 

Benny is standing in a lilac colored suit that he’s slightly too big for, his tie covered in a pink, purple, and blue floral pattern. He’s holding a bouquet of mostly white flowers with pops of pink, purple, and blue sporadically placed around them. 

Garth is in a classic black outfit with a waistcoat, tophat, and cane. 

Aaron is in a navy blue suit with a rose gold tie. He’s holding a bouquet of white and pink roses that’s full of a lot of green shit too. 

Max is in a glittery, sequined suit jacket that looks like a goldish color. His pants, undershirt, and tie are all a simple black. There’s a pink rose on his lapel and a bouquet of matching ones mixed with other shades of pink and red roses in his hands. He also has some sort of… crown on his head. It looks like a wildflower crown that kids would make, but it’s rosegold instead. 

Kevin is in a floor length flowy white dress that looks lightweight, like it would catch on the wind and levitate in the air. He’s wearing a veil with bright flowers embroidered on it. His bouquet is full of flowers of all colors, from red to pink to blue to orange to purple. 

Charlie is wearing an all white suit with a fucking cape that looks just like the veil that Kevin is wearing, with the brightly colored embroidered flowers all along the edges of it. This outfit also includes a crown, though slightly different. 

And Sam. 

Dean’s little brother Sammy. 

Why and when the man came here, Dean has no idea, but he somehow got sucked into this before he reached his destination, and Castiel put the man in a muted gold suit with a shiny gold under shirt covered in flowers made of gems. There are more flowers embroidered on the lapel of his suit, and then on the bottom part of his jacket on the left side. He’s also wearing a cape, though this one is shiny gold with bright flowers embroidered and jeweled around the top of it to cover his shoulders and upper back. The inside of the cape is a bright pink that matches his tie. 

“Wow.”

“Dean!” Castiel squeaks. He presses his two tiny hands against Dean’s chest and shoves. When Dean doesn’t move, Castiel stomps a foot and growls, “Out!” 

“But-”

“Out!”

“It’s our wedding!” Dean argues. 

“Out!”

“Why?”

“Because - just because! Because I said so! I’ve decided that the wedding will be a surprise.” 

Dean’s jaw drops. “A surprise… to me? As in… I will be surprised? As in… on our wedding day, I am going to have no idea what lies ahead of me? Not my outfit? Or decorations? Or menu? Or - or - or scotch.” Dean suddenly understands what panic feels like as he thinks of that last one. “You have to let me pick out the scotch!”

His sweet boy grins wide and laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound. Dean thinks he should maybe throw him over his shoulder and carry him off, telling his men to figure out the wedding shit for themselves. The only thing that keeps him from doing so is the obvious joy in Castiel’s eyes. He’s loving this. Dean won’t ruin that. 

“You can pick out the scotch. But can the rest be a surprise? I promise it won’t be bad!” Castiel scoots closer and goes up on his toes, resting his lips against Dean’s ear. “That outfit Sam is in was just for fun. I swear our wedding won’t be like that.”

Dean chuckles. “Did you get a picture?”

“Hell yeah. I got a picture of all of those men in there. And Charlie.”

“Maybe I should be glad you’re letting me go. I don’t think I want to get stuck helping in the same way they all are.” Dean glances behind Castiel, smirking. “Though, I really do need Benny. He’s skipped two meetings already.”

“In my defense,” Castiel says, putting a finger up. “I didn’t ask for Benny’s help. He sat down and declared he was participating. Same happened when Kevin and Garth strolled in.”

Dean smirks. “And the rest of my men?”

“Well, once Ash and I saw how much fun dress up was, we sort of went… searching for more ken dolls.”

“Of course.”

“So?”

“Sooooo, what?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, laughing softly. “Can I plan the wedding as a surprise for you? I’m going to make it perfect. Like… a present to you. I don’t have any money or anything like that, and I don’t really have anything to give you… but the wedding could be like a present, right?” Castiel’s eyebrows suddenly pull in. “Is that stupid?”

“Not stupid at all.” Dean takes one more peek over his boy’s shoulders before looking back down into his pretty blue eyes. “I can’t wait. I know it’ll be amazing.”

The boy smiles softly. “I hope so.”

“It will be. You’ll be there. That’s all that matters, right?”

Castiel grins so wide Dean’s certain it must hurt his face. “Right.” 

“Besides,” Dean steps closer, his lips skimming the shell of Castiel’s ear. “All I care about is what you’re wearing underneath it all. And let me tell you, little whore, it’s gonna make you look awful pretty for me. Just you wait.”

With that, Dean turns and walks away, leaving a blushing Castiel behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever for more of my work as well as info on my new m/m novel (: <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** Hey all! I am sincerely SO sorry for going missing lately. I’m behind on all my fics and even my CODAs. There has been a lot going on personally that’s kept me from writing like I’d like to be. Anyone who knows me knows it takes a lot for that to happen. I appreciate all of your patience and loyalty as you bear with me during this crazy time. I’m hoping to update faster from now on, but no promises… just know I’ll never abandon you all and I love you all like crazy <3 
> 
> Anyway, have a super long feely smutty fluffy chapter as an apology. The next chapter is going to be full of plotty action, blood, and a badass Dean Winchester that might scare everyone (but Cas - who might find out he has a surprising kink for dangerous men) (; Enjoy!

Castiel is much too quiet Monday morning for Dean’s liking. He’s timid and nervous, barely lifting his eyes off of the ground. He doesn’t even blush or squirm when Dean strips him naked to kneel for him. When he takes his bites of food from Dean’s fingers at breakfast, his  _ thank yous _ are whispered. Sad. He only takes a sip of his chocolate milk, something he usually tries to chug most mornings. 

If it were any other day, Dean would just stay in the wing and spoil the boy rotten until he’s feeling better. Dean has too much shit to deal with though. He’s still trying to find the demon that escaped from the attack on Garth. He needs to get ahold of Gabriel, who has been looking into some information that’s awfully sketchy regarding Chuck, despite their apparent alliance from the arranged marriage. He needs to get the guest list to this weekend’s masquerade ball at the hospital to see how many of his enemies will be in attendance. Then he needs to sit with Charlie and Ash and set a security plan for the event. He also needs to get Castiel’s measurements because the boy doesn’t have a tux yet. He needs to return a call from Cole. He needs to look into options for a honeymoon, something he can’t wait to surprise Castiel with. He’s hoping to hear from Castiel’s doctor. Sam is supposed to stop by at some point to discuss finances and power of attorney and all that boring shit that will need to be sorted out for the marriage. 

Moral of the long, drawn out, story - Dean needs to get to the bottom of the issue and help fix it within the next 27 minutes, before he needs to be in his office for his first conference call. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

Castiel blinks at him, a soft frown pulling at his lips. "Sir?"

"You seem upset today. Sad." Dean cups the boy's cheek. "I know we didn't play last night… but do you feel like you're dropping maybe?" 

"No," Castiel says quietly, looking at the floor again. "Just… sad. No reason. Besides, ya know…"

_ The depression.  _

God, Dean would give anything -  _ everything  _ \- to make that go away for his sweet boy. 

"Is there anything I can do, sweetheart?" 

"No, sir." Castiel rests his cheek on Dean's thigh and peeks up at him. "I think I might just sleep… if that's okay?" 

Dean nods, smiling softly. "Of course. As long as you promise to wake up." 

Castiel wrinkles his nose, his lips curving into a tentative smile. "'Course I will, sir. I'd miss you too much."

The words shouldn't make it hard for Dean to breathe, but they do. Because with Castiel? Those words mean so fucking much. More than anyone would ever understand. 

"I'd miss you too. Way too much, Cas." 

Cheeks going red, Castiel tucks his face into Dean's thigh and hides there. "Good. Then we agree. I'll wake up." 

"Good." Dean presses a kiss to the crown of his boy's head. "Why don't you go on then. Use the bathroom and wash up. I'll come tuck you into bed in a moment if you'd like."

Castiel perks up, blue eyes brighter than they've been all morning. He  _ loves  _ getting tucked in. Whenever Dean has to work late, the boy begs and gives him puppy dog eyes to come tuck him in before returning to whatever it is he has to do. Dean's men give him shit for it, but he doesn't care. Any time Castiel sends him the text saying he's heading to bed and reeaalllyyy wishes Dean was there to tuck him in, Dean is on his way - as long as he's on the property, of course. If he's in town then he sadly has to send a text, which never fails to let the boy down… something Dean has discovered he  _ hates  _ doing. 

Sure enough, when Dean is finished cleaning up their things from breakfast and walks into the bedroom, he finds Castiel under the blankets with a smile that's considered big when his mental state is taken into account. His bunny is already tucked into one arm, his naked body covered in one of Dean's oversized shirts the boy has taken a liking to stealing recently. Dean helps him settle back and tucks the blankets around his body, making him hum in happiness. Then he brushes his messy curls off of his forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. 

"I'll send Benny with some food and your medicine this afternoon, okay?" Dean asks after forcing himself to stand up. 

"Mmhm." 

"If you're feeling better later, I'd like you to do the dishes and practice piano for a while. If not, don't worry about it. Promise?" 

The promise isn't for him doing the dishes and piano, Dean thinking he'll be naughty and slack off. The promise is for Castiel to assure Dean that he will  _ only  _ do the tasks if he  _ truly  _ feels good enough. 

Castiel frowns but nods. "Promise, sir." 

"Good boy. Sweet dreams now, you hear me?" 

"Mmmmhm. Sweet dreams." Castiel's eyes flutter closed, his cheek nuzzled against his bunny's belly. "Have a good day at work, sir. Love you." 

Dean's chest goes tight as something warm and fuzzy travels through him.  _ This. This boy right here. This is  _ his.  _ All his. Forever.  _

He gives in and leans over to press one more kiss to the boy's forehead. "I love you too, sweetheart." 

  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  


A soft knock on Castiel’s music room interrupts him as he practices his official audition piece for the Edlund Institute. He turns just in time to see Benny open the door, poking his head through the gap to give Castiel a friendly smile. “Hey. You have a meeting in five minutes.”

Castiel frowns. “A meeting?”

“Yes. Five minutes. Dean’s office.”

“A meeting for what?”

“Things.”

“Things?”

Benny smirks. “Important… things. Five minutes. Be there.”

Before Castiel can ask any other questions, Benny has shut the door and disappeared. Castiel stares at the door for at least a minute. Then he realizes he’s running out of time, and still wearing nothing but his underwear and one of Dean’s shirts. He hurries to get dressed as his mind races.  _ What important things could he possibly have a meeting scheduled about? Last time he and Dean spoke, he was having a bad day because of his depression and was about to take a nap…  _

Dean’s on his phone when Castiel peeks through the cracked open door of his office. Thinking that there must have been a mistake, that Benny had been wrong, Castiel takes a step back. He intends to go to their wing and wait for Dean to come find him.

Instead, Castiel is met with something solid behind him. He startles and whips around to find Benny grinning down at him in amusement. “Going somewhere?”

“He’s busy.”

“I’m aware.” Benny gestures towards the office door. “He still wants you.”

“Is it about how I’m feeling? Because you can just tell him I woke up feeling better.”

Benny smiles warmly. “He already knows that. I let him know you were playing piano.”

Castiel frowns, unsure what Dean could possibly want with him right now when he’s clearly busy. If he already knows that Castiel is doing relatively well mentally, then what else is there to discuss in the middle of his busy workday? 

Castiel reminds himself that he shouldn’t argue, though. If Dean wants him to do something then he’s supposed to do it. That’s the  _ rule _ .

Making sure to be very quiet, Castiel slips through the crack in the door. Dean’s eyes flick up to him immediately. His grin is bright enough to steal Castiel’s breath from his lungs. It’s also wicked. Mischievous. 

Dean gestures for Castiel to close the door, then beckons him forward. He quickly writes something on a sticky note as he speaks. At first, Castiel thinks Dean is speaking to him. Then the words register and Castiel realizes Dean is still on the phone. It’s on speaker, so Castiel stays very quiet. 

“-ensure a successful retrieval, understood?” Dean finishes. 

“Yes, sir,” a man’s voice says through the speaker and Castiel can’t help but glare at the office phone in disgust. Dean isn’t that man's sir. Dean is  _ Castiel’s _ sir.

Dean offers Castiel the sticky note between two fingers, not making eye contact with him. He’s looking down at a calendar on his desk instead.

It takes effort for Castiel to remain quiet when he reads the instructions that have been given to him by his sir.

** _Strip and lay yourself out on my arm chair. I want something pretty to look at._ **

After reading it three times, Castiel puts the note back down with a shaking hand and takes a step back. Dean whips a hand out to grab his wrist, holding him in place. He presses a button on his phone, the man's voice continuing to go on and on as Dean starts to speak over it. 

"Oh, and little slut?" 

Something electric goes down Castiel’s spine. "Yes, sir?" 

The man grins wickedly. "Make a sound and you lose the game." 

"What game, sir?" 

Dean just raises an eyebrow and reaches over to his phone, pressing a button again. His eyes stay locked on Castiel as he says, "Okay, skip all of the logistics. I have those printed out for me. Talk to me about Azazel."

Castiel swallows hard, realizing whatever the game is, he's not going to be told about it. All he knows is the rules he's being given as he goes along. So far: No sounds. Strip and lay on the chair so Dean has _something_ _pretty to look at. _

He starts with his sweater, tugging it over his head and letting it fall to the floor. Then his belt. His jeans. His shoes. His socks. His panties. He can feel his naked skin go hot in humiliation. In arousal. 

When Castiel takes a step toward the large leather arm chair in front of  sir’s desk, he’s stopped with a sharp snap of sir’s fingers. He nearly stumbles from how fast he turns on his heel to look at his sir. His confusion grows when he sees how angry the man is. Sir jabs a finger at the clothes messily piled on the floor and Castiel gulps.

_ Shit _ .

He’s supposed to fold them neatly. Being somewhere other than their wing threw him off.

Castiel tilts his chin down in an attempt to silently apologize before quickly squatting down and folding his clothes. He makes sure to do it quickly but double checks that it’s all folded as neatly as possible before heading to the leather chair. This time, he isn’t stopped.

As Castiel gets comfortable, the person on the other end of the call continues talking. “-3 bodies but I spoke with the sheriff and the story is clear. Our soldiers obeyed your orders. No sigils were left behind.”

“Good.” Sir pushes to his feet and loosens his tie. Castiel holds his breath. He can’t help but feel like prey as the gorgeous, powerful man stalks forward. Especially once sir is towering over him. With a sly smile, sir leans down and places his hands on Castiel’s bare shoulders. “I’d like to set up another meeting with Novak.”

Castiel’s eyes snap up to stare wide-eyed at his sir.

Sir just teasingly puts a finger to his lips and continues. “I want all of our high officials there. Shit is moving too slow. He’s stalling. I don’t like it.”

Whatever the man on the phone says, Castiel doesn’t hear it. Not when sir’s strong, calloused hands are wrapping around Castiel’s thin thighs. He adjusts Castiel. Hooks both of his legs around the arms of the chair so he’s wide open and fully on display. From his desk, sir will be able to see…  _ everything _ . Sir pins Castiel in place with a hand on his throat.

“No, that won’t do,” sir says in a husky, disapproving voice. At first, Castiel thinks sir is speaking to him. He startles at the possibility that he could have disappointed sir somehow but when he looks up to check, sir is grinning at him. He tightens his grip on Castiel’s throat and tilts his head in an almost taunting way. Castiel’s head swims.

“-the paperwork for the merger will be finalized-” the words turn to fog as sir pushes even harder on Castiel’s throat. When Castiel goes to moan, unable to help himself, sir covers his mouth and swallows it down with a kiss. The man on the phone just keeps talking. “-if that works, sir?”

Sir pulls back and drops his hand, smiling as he watches Castiel struggle to suck in air quietly. He makes the slightest noise but sir is merciful, not pointing it out. “That works, yes. Have we heard back from the-”

Then Castiel is zoning out again because sir is wrapping a possessive hand around Castiel’s cock. Castiel was already half-hard but just two long, even strokes has him so hard he can feel his heart beating in the throbbing member.

Sir stands back up, completely composed, and removes his tie. Castiel doesn’t understand what’s happening until the silk fabric is being wrapped around the bottom part of his head. It digs harshly into his cheeks as sir secures the tie with a tight knot at the base of Castiel’s skull. The extra fabric is shoved inside his mouth. Castiel instinctively sucks on the  satin . It smells and tastes like sir. He moans at that, thankful for the tie as it muffles the noise.

Still, sir puts another finger to his mouth to remind him to be quiet. Then he places a small rubber band ball in Castiel's hand. 

"That’s excellent,” sir states firmly, leaning forward so his lips are against Castiel’s ear. He turns his chin so his mouth is facing the phone and speaks again in his loud, professional voice. “I’m finished with you for now. Patch me through to Cole.”

“Of course, sir! Just one moment.”

There’s a soft click and a pause. Then there’s the first ring of the phone, indicating that someone else is now trying to be contacted. Sir takes the opportunity to whisper in Castiel’s ear, “That’s your safeword, Castiel. You will throw it on the floor if you need to red. You will wave it in the air to get my attention if you need to yellow. Understood?”

Castiel nods quickly, nervous but excited at the same time.

They’re  _ scening _ . Right now. In sir’s office. While sir talks to people on his phone. Using the  _ speaker _ . So they can hear every filthy sound Castiel makes if he doesn’t behave. Tie or no tie, the thin fabric can only do so much.

Castiel moans. Sir chuckles.

“Touch yourself for me, boy.” Sir lifts Castiel’s free hand and places it on Castiel’s cock. “Put on a show for sir.”

Then the call connects and sir is walking away from him.

“Dean, how the hell are ya?” a warm, deep voice asks. Whoever this is, it’s not an employee of Dean’s. There’s no formality like with the man before.

“I’m great, Cole.” Sir sits down in his chair and kicks his feet up on the desk, eyes boring into Castiel. “Matter of fact, I’m fucking fantastic. How are you?”

“Not as good as you, apparently.” The man laughs. “I take it things are going better with Castiel.”

Castiel’s hand freezes on his cock, eyes widening as he looks at sir.

“Things are going excellent.” Sir raises a very demanding eyebrow and gestures for Castiel to continue. He wasn’t told to stop. “Thanks for the advice the other day, man. Now that things have been talked out we’re running smoothly. As smoothly as can be, considering his experience level.”

Cole chuckles. “Fuck you. Don’t go complaining about scoring a damn virgin you son of a bitch.”

“Not a virgin anymore,” Dean informs the man. Like it’s nothing! Like Castiel isn’t sitting right here!

“Fuck.” The man groans. “You have no idea what I’d do to get inside an ass like that.”

Dean snaps his fingers and points at Castiel’s cock with a finger that’s overwhelmingly angry and threatening. The cold look in his eyes warns Castiel that this is his last chance.

But they’re - they’re talking about  _ him _ . And that’s - that -  _ that doesn’t matter _ , Castiel realizes in a clarifying moment. He is  _ sir’s  _ right now. Just an object. He’s been told to entertain sir. To put on a show. To be a good boy. It doesn’t matter what else is happening around them. Nothing else matters but  _ sir _ .

Slowly, Castiel begins stroking himself again. He shivers at the way sir’s face lights up. He’s pleased. Incredibly so. It makes Castiel feel damn near invincible.

“Maybe one day I’ll let you into his ass. It’s damn good, Cole. Best I’ve ever had.”

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep his breathing steady. His hand trembles as it works over his erection.

_ What does this Cole look like? Is he good looking? He sounds good looking. He’s clearly a top. Most likely dominant, too. What would that be like? Two of them bossing him around? Two of them using him? Just a doll for their pleasure? _ He can’t say he hasn’t imagined something like that before, though he’ll admit Benny is usually the third in that fantasy. 

It gives Castiel anxiety. Yes, there’s a dirty sort of thrill lurking beneath the surface, but a majority of what brews in his chest at the idea of someone else fucking him is anxiety.

He was a virgin before sir. He’d like sir to be the only one to ever touch him like that. Maybe he’d enjoy being played with, but not fucked. That’s special. Something for sir and sir alone. 

_ But would Castiel really be confident to tell sir no? To safeword over that? Especially if it’s something sir really wants- _

“Fuck off you damn tease.” Castiel looks up in surprise at the words coming from the speaker. “You’d never share him. Not in a million years. You forget how well I know you, Dean Winchester.”

“Okay, okay. You caught me.” Sir winks at Castiel and it’s like some form of magic happens. Every ounce of the anxiety that was there just a second ago blooms into joy and arousal and love until Castiel is buzzing. “I will let you watch, though. My dirty boy likes an audience.”

“Oh really?” There’s a pause. Then, “You should bring him to my play party next weekend.”

Sir looks at Castiel like he wants to eat him alive.

Castiel slows his hand because he has a feeling he’s not allowed to come, and he’s quickly approaching that edge.

“I’ll have to talk to him about it. Have you heard from Ketch?”

“Oh, boy. You ready for this?”

“Hit me with it.” Sir takes his feet off his desk and pushes to his feet. He comes around his desk and walks forward, eyes narrowing at Castiel. It becomes abundantly clear that Castiel is now sir’s center of attention. As Cole goes on and on about some man named Ketch and another man named Mick, sir stands just a foot in front of him and watches Castiel as if Castiel is about to offer him the key to the universe.

Everything is much more intense as sir watches, his green eyes so heavy with lust Castiel swears he can feel it pressing on his skin. Then sir is on his knees before him, smirking as he pulls two things out of his pocket. One is a packet of lube. The other is a butt plug. One big enough that sir must have grabbed it from his desk because Castiel would have noticed if the man had been walking around with something that size bulging from his pocket. 

“I told him it was a bad idea,” sir says with a sigh before ripping the packet open with his teeth. 

“Yeah, well, it’s Ketch. You know how it is. Did I tell you-” Castiel stops listening again. It’s impossible when sir presses a lubed finger to his hole and begins working it in. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his ass burns and aches around the digit. Just as he’s finally adjusting to the intrusion, sir adds a second finger. Castiel whimpers into the tie. Cole just keeps talking. Or maybe sir is talking. Maybe both. He’s not entirely sure. Who can blame him? Sir is already working a third finger into his hole!

Sir fucks Castiel open with his fingers until all of the pain has been replaced with pleasure and need. Then, of course, he decides to pull his fingers out and leave Castiel empty. Castiel blinks his eyes open to find sir smirking at him. His face goes hot, which of course makes sir smile even wider. 

After taking out a second lube packet and coating the plug, sir adjusts Castiel in the chair and pushes the plug slowly into him. Castiel can’t help the filthy moan that escapes past his makeshift gag when the thing is fully seated inside of him. He tenses, waiting for sir to punish him. The man’s eyes go dark and angry, but Cole keeps talking like nothing happened so he must not have heard. Castiel hopes that will save him. Considering sir doesn’t lighten up as he pushes to his feet and returns to his desk, Castiel has a feeling it’s not enough. 

Sir sits back in his chair, casually dominant as he speaks with his friend. Castiel keeps stroking his cock because he wasn’t told to stop. He hopes this is over soon, though. He’s pretty sure he’s going to blow his load whether sir allows it or not. His control is shredded. He’s hanging on by a very thin, weak string. 

Things get even harder when sir starts subtly instructing Castiel. Sir skates his fingers across his chest and pauses where his right nipple would be beneath his suit, then raises an eyebrow and nods his head toward Castiel as if to say, “Now you’re turn.”

Castiel settles the safe-ball between his hip and the cushion of the chair so he can keep stroking himself while he reaches up for his nipple. The look sir gives him is so full of pride that Castiel can’t help but moan into his gag. He had no idea touching himself could be so hot.

Sir twists his fingers in the air. Castiel whimpers, knowing exactly what sir wants from him and already hating it. He’s a good boy, though. He wants to be sir’s good boy. So, Castiel takes a deep breath to prepare himself and tweaks his nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s actually not that bad.

Of course, sir can tell instantly that that’s the case. His eyes narrow and he twists his fingers once again. The expectation is clear. Sir wants Castiel to make it  _ hurt _ . And Castiel will. Castiel will hurt for sir any time sir asks.

This time, when Castiel twists his nipple he does it hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He quickly rubs the pain away like sir does whenever he plays with them. Sir doesn’t give him any sign of being upset. He just shifts his own fingers to touch his left nipple. Castiel does the same. He twists, making sure it hurts. Sir grins like the cat with the canary. 

There’s a knock on sir’s door. Two sharp raps. Castiel jumps, snapping his eyes over to look at the source of the sound. Sir tells Cole he needs to call him back, then presses a button. And then - and  _ then  _ \- sir just casually fucking says, “Come in.”

Castiel tenses, his hand accidentally squeezing his cock hard enough to make him wince and let go. It’s just Benny, thankfully, but it still makes Castiel feel overheated and shivery. He can feel Benny’s eyes on him even as he looks away. Can feel the man’s presence as he walks closer to sir’s desk - and therefore to Castiel. 

“I got ahold of…  _ you know who _ . He’s waiting not-so-patiently on line 3.”

Sir huffs a laugh. “He’ll wait, not-so-patiently or not. I couldn’t care less.”

“I figured.” Castiel can hear the grin in Benny’s voice. He keeps staring off at the floor, pretty sure his face will boil straight off his head if he has to look at the man during this. “I’m going to run a training session with Garth and Kevin. You need anything before you go?”

“Don’t need anything from you,” sir says before raising his voice and adding, “I do need my little whore to keep stroking his cock like he was  _ told  _ to do.”

Castiel jumps in surprise, accidentally looking at the two men with wide eyes. Sir looks pissed. Benny looks like he’s been starving for days and is trying to keep himself away from a chocolate cake that isn’t his to eat. Both gazes do very crazy things to Castiel. 

“I suggest you listen to your sir, boy,” Benny says in that low gravelly voice of his. “Or he’s going to bend you over his desk and redden your ass.”

With a squeak, Castiel wraps his hand around his cock again and begins stroking himself. It makes sir smirk. Benny’s gaze just goes hungrier. 

“Isn’t he pretty, Ben?” sir asks softly. 

“Yeah, boss. Real pretty.”

“I think he likes you watching.”

“Good.” Benny swallows hard. “I think I like it too.”

Sir chuckles darkly. Castiel squeezes the base of his cock to keep from coming. He even tugs at his balls a little like sir would, the pain pulling him back from the edge. Drool is starting to spill out of his mouth now that the gag is soaked. Some drips down Castiel’s chin. He feels a drop on his naked chest. 

He’s never been more humiliated in all of his life. 

He’s never been so horny either. 

“Such a good boy putting on a show for sir and his friend,” sir muses. 

The praise makes Castiel shiver and moan. Both men chuckle at that. Then sir sighs heavily and waves a hand. “That’ll be all for now, Ben. Go train the boys. I’ll deal with you know who on line 3.”

Benny looks slightly disappointed but he nods and shoots sir a wink. He pauses at the door and takes one last look at Castiel before leaving and closing the door behind himself. 

Sir gets up from his desk without a word and comes toward Castiel. Unsure what’s about to happen, Castiel just tries to behave himself by slowly stroking his cock and otherwise remaining still. Castiel gasps into the fabric filling his mouth as sir easily picks him up and carries him across the room. The man lays him out on his desk, papers crinkling beneath him. Castiel shivers at the feeling of sir's hands  _ finally  _ on him after all of this time with the man so close, yet so far away. 

With his thumb, sir collects some of Castiel’s drool and brings his hand down to rub the moisture over Castiel’s left nipple. Castiel arches his back and whimpers. He feels like his entire body is a live wire. Sir is barely touching him, and he’s already ready to burst. 

“You’re such a good boy,” sir murmurs as he collects more drool and heads to Castiel’s other nipple. “Benny wanted you so fucking bad. Did you see that? He was dying to get his hands on you. To get his cock inside you. Not that I can blame him. You’re awfully pretty. And you’re fucking irresistable when you’re like this. You should see yourself. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already a fucking wreck. My debauched little whore.” 

Castiel squeezes the base of his cock again, toes curling as he fights his orgasm. His whole body shudders with the effort. Sir notices, of course. “You wanna come so bad, don’t you sweetheart?”

Unable to speak, Castiel nods. He blinks rapidly as he feels tears pooling in his eyes. 

“I know. I know you do. Soon, sweetheart. Once sir has used you.” Castiel whines. He’s not sure how much longer he can last. “Now you be quiet for me. Real quiet. This next person isn’t someone you’re going to want to let hear you being a filthy little cockslut for me, understood?”

Before Castiel can agree that he understands, sir is reaching over to the phone. Castiel has just enough time to see him press the 3. The only saving grace is that sir doesn’t use speakerphone this time. He picks up the phone instead, pressing it to his ear. 

But then… 

“Novak,” he grunts, ignoring Castiel’s startled look. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Suffice to say, I’m unimpressed that I had to be the one to get in touch.”

Sir listens to whatever Castiel’s father is saying as he slowly pulls Castiel’s plug out of his hole. Castiel watches with wide eyes as sir just casually pulls his cock from his pants and starts to cover it in lube.  _ He’s going to fuck him _ . Logically, Castiel knows that. Sir is going to fuck him on his desk while talking to his father. But Castiel is a little too mindblown - and a lot too horny - to full grasp this. 

Just as sir settles the head of his cock against Castiel’s hole, he reaches down and touches Castiel’s left hand. Castiel looks over in time to watch the man run a thumb along the curve of the rubber band ball. With an arched eyebrow, sir meets his gaze. He’s checking in. Castiel’s heart races and his face burns, but he’s green. He’s so fucking green. He squeezes the ball tight and jerks his head in a nod. Sir grins brilliantly. 

Then, as sir says, “Well that’s fucking unacceptable,” sir slowly sinks his lubed cock into Castiel’s not-prepped-enough hole. Castiel moans, his hips buck upward. It sends sir sliding the rest of the way inside of him, the man leaning forward and biting down hard on Castiel’s shoulder to muffle his surprised groan

“Naughty,” sir growls in Castiel’s ear, voice low and dangerous. “Stay. Still.”

Castiel whimpers and nods, trying his best to obey as sir pulls back. He says something into the phone, but Castiel can’t process the words. Everything is too honed in on sir right now. Just…  _ sir _ . 

That’s probably why Castiel is caught completely by surprise when something harsh bites down on his left nipple. He starts to buck off the desk in startled pain but he’s held steady by sir’s hand wrapping around his throat. Blinking back tears, Castiel lifts his head just enough to look at his throbbing nipple. A filthy moan tries to make its way past the tie in his mouth as he sees the binder clip sir had used as a makeshift nipple clamp. 

Before he can fully process and recover, sir is repeating the process with Castiel’s other nipple. Castiel bites down on the fabric in his mouth as he shudders. Sir chuckles silently, an awful grin on his lips as he straightens his posture and stares down at Castiel where he lies impaled on sir’s cock, his erection bobbing in the air, precum dripping onto his belly. Sir reaches out and flicks one of the clips on Castiel’s nipple, sending a rush of pain straight to Castiel’s cock. Castiel releases a silent scream, arching his back against the desk. His hole clenches on sir’s cock in a way that makes the man shudder, though you can’t even hear it in his voice when he speaks right after. “That sounds like an excuse. Have I ever told you how much I detest excuses, Novak?”

As he listens to Castiel’s father, sir pulls his phone away and leans forward to press a kiss to Castiel’s earlobe. Then he whispers, “Good boy. Sir’s gonna fuck you now. Feel free to come.”

And without any extra warning, without even a second to process the words, sir is putting his phone to his ear again and Castiel is being fucked as promised. It's fast and hard, but sir is pinning him down with a hand on his throat so he can't go anywhere. Not an inch. He's just forced to take it, sir's cock relentless. The harsh slap of skin fills the office as sir fucks Castiel impressively fast and hard while continuing his conversation. It's  _ filthy  _ and  _ wrong  _ and Castiel’s already on the edge of a mind shattering orgasm. 

"Absolutely not," sir says in a firm, but calm, voice. "I’m done waiting.”

Sir shifts, Castiel’s leg bumping up to a different angle. His next thrust hits right on that sweet spot inside him. It makes Castiel nearly giddy with pleasure, his hips jerking to get more of sir. Sir digs his fingers into Castiel’s throat, a warning look on his face as he tells the person on the phone - Castiel’s fucking  _ father  _ -, "I don’t think you realize how easily I could end this little arrangement if I chose to. Then you’d be fucked, Novak. What would you do then?”

Castiel’s heart catches, a lump rising in his throat. He blinks back tears as he stares up at sir. But then sir laughs maliciously and says, “Oh, no, no, no. Castiel isn’t a part of the arrangement anymore. Castiel is  _ mine _ .”

The words are like a soothing balm to Castiel, his body relaxing into the desk. Sir will keep him.  _ Of course _ sir will keep him. How silly of him to believe otherwise. Sir  _ loves  _ him. 

That finally hits Castiel. Sir fucking  _ loves  _ him. 

“You’re testing my patience and I’m sick of it.”

Castiel can feel bruises blooming where sir is holding him. Sir’s free hand removes the clamp from Castiel's left nipple. Castiel wails into his gag, tears falling down his cheeks. He's just coming down when the second clamp follows. The pain just heightens the pleasure, pushing him higher and higher until he's dizzy with it all. Until all Castiel can think, all he knows, is  _ sir, sir, sir.  _

"Absolutely," he hears sir say from far far away, words muted and fuzzy. "But then that’s it. Last chance.”

Sir reaches between them and grips Castiel's cock. There's no need to squeeze or stroke. Just the feel of sir's fingers, and Castiel's orgasm is slamming into him. He bites down on the tie so hard he worries he may rip it. 

"You have 48 hours, or I’ll deal with it myself.”

Sir ends the call. Then his phone is being tossed to the side, both of his hands grabbing Castiel so he can manhandle him closer. Sir puts one hand on Castiel’s hip, keeping the other on his throat, and continues fucking into him like nothing happened. Castiel is helpless. All he's able to manage is to lie there like jelly, tiny whimpers and sated sighs muffled by the expensive  silk between his lips. 

"So fucking good for me," sir growls, pounding into Castiel hard enough to make his breathing hitch. "You should see yourself, sweetheart. Fuck. You're beautiful like this. You look  _ wrecked. _ "

Sir's fingernails scrape along Castiel’s thighs as he stills inside him, spilling his load. He stares at Castiel with heavy-lidded eyes, still coming as he pants, “You’re mine. You understand me? No matter what happens, you are always going to be  _ mine _ .”

The moment the ruined tie is pulled out of Castiel’s mouth, Castiel promises, “Yes, sir, yes.  _ Yours _ . Always yours.”

“Good boy.” Sir presses feather soft kisses on Castiel’s abused nipples, then more on his bruising throat. He kisses his tears-soaked cheeks, his drooly chin, his aching fingers as he removes the ball from Castiel’s hand. Castiel can’t help but sigh in relief when sir finally brings his lips to Castiel’s own. 

Feeling floaty and amazing, Castiel lies back on the desk as he’s cleaned up and kissed some more. Time passes but he doesn’t notice it. All he notices is sir, who never once leaves him. Even once sir needs to get back to work, he just pulls Castiel into his lap so Castiel is perfectly curled up there, nestled against his chest. 

Another knock on the door comes at some point. Castiel lazily opens his eyes, seeing a flash of sir’s laptop being open in front of them before looking at the doorway to find Benny smiling at him. He thinks maybe he smiles back, but he’s far too tired to know for sure. He definitely smiles when Benny walks forward with presents though. Castiel even finds the energy to perk up in sir’s lap when he sees his bunny, making both men laugh fondly. 

As Castiel hugs his bunny close, feeling settled in a way he hadn’t realized he was missing before, Benny drapes a thick blanket over him and sir so he’s covered and brushes his sweaty hair off his forehead. Then a straw is being pressed to his lips, something deliciously sweet filling his mouth when he sucks. He takes three big drinks before letting the straw go and shaking his head. Then chocolates are being fed to him. He realizes absentmindedly that Benny is one of the two men feeding him. He’s talking with sir about whatever is on sir’s screen, and if he sees that Castiel has finished his tiny piece of chocolate whenever he glances down at Castiel, he doesn’t make Castiel wait for sir. He just gives him a piece before continuing his conversation. 

Castiel’s not sure if he’s ever felt so spoiled and loved in all of his life. 

Then Benny goes and ruins it by saying, “That meeting in the conference room starts in 15, boss.”

When he feels Castiel slump against him, sir seems to read his mind. He presses a kiss to Castiel’s temple and assures him, “You’re coming with, sweetheart. It’ll just be a group of us from the house. No one you need to feel ashamed in front of.”

“Not that you ever need to feel ashamed,” Benny says surprisingly defensively. 

“Very true. Thank you, Ben.” Sir kisses Castiel’s cheek next. Then the corner of his mouth. It makes Castiel smile. But…

“I’m so sleepy, sir…”

“That’s fine, sweetheart. It’ll be boring anyway. You can just nap on sir’s lap. I’ll even carry you down there when it’s time to go.”

“Wow,” Castiel breathes, nuzzling his bunny as he rests back against his sir’s chest. “This is the life.”

Sir and Benny both laugh fondly, but Castiel wishes he had the energy to explain to them how serious he is. This is it. Everything he didn’t know he wanted. Everything he didn’t know he needed. 

If his father is fucking around with the deal he made with Dean, Castiel hopes Dean snuffs him out. Castiel refuses to risk losing this. Losing  _ him _ . He’ll fight his own blood first. And they’ll win. Castiel knows his fiance well enough to know they’ll win. Because if they don’t win, then Dean can’t keep him safe, and Dean promised to keep him safe.  _ Always _ . Castiel trusts the man to live up to that. 

His father is in for one hell of a fight if he thinks otherwise. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a long, smutty one folks: warning for some under negotiated consensual non-con play that occurs between our boys . Also, Dean might torture some bad guys... in a dubious sort of way... *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Warning for some under-negotiated consensual non-con play that occurs between our boys. Also, Dean might torture a bad guy... using some unconventional methods... 
> 
> (New tags being added to the fic. I included them in the note at the end of this chapter - contain some spoilers-ish)

Castiel was rarely allowed to attend events for his father's organization. His father claimed it was to keep him safe, but Castiel realized as he got older it had more to do with his father being ashamed of him. Castiel wasn't someone his father ever wanted to display. To show off. To connect to the family name.

Dean, however, looks like a kid on Christmas as he lounges on the u-shaped couch in the dressing area of a fancy boutique he reserved for the afternoon, he and Benny enjoying glasses of champagne as Dean watches Castiel get measured and prodded by the tailor with a childish grin. He's _excited _to bring Castiel to the masquerade ball this weekend as his date. His fiance. His future husband. He wants to connect Castiel to the Winchester name. He wants to be associated with him. He wants to show him off. Display him. It's a strange feeling. One Castiel is still trying to adjust to.

"Black, Mr. Winchester?" the tailor double checks when he's finished with Castiel’s initial intake - which had included a few mumbles about the fit of his clothes and how he needs much more than just a tux and Mr. Winchester should know better than to dress his things in such nonsense, which made Castiel blush and Dean chuckle and the tailor excited when given permission by both of them to develop an entire wardrobe while they're there.

"Black, yes. Something simple. Classic."

"You wait right there, then. We shall surprise you!"

Castiel is then tugged off of the pedestal and into a dressing room with far more room than Castiel thinks is necessary. The tailor seems ten times kinder once they're in the space, the man dropping his professional demeanor and taking what seems to be his first deep breath since they met. He blushes as he meets Castiel’s eyes, then shakes his head. "I don't know how you spend so much time around him."

"Dean?"

The man glances at the door of the room as if Dean might barge in on them. He nods when he's sure the coast is clear, eyes darting back to Castiel before away. He scurries over to the rack of tuxes in the room, searching tags before pulling a few and hanging them on hooks beside the large mirror. "We will start with these. Hopefully Mr. Winchester will be satisfied…"

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

The tailor looks at him like he just grew a second head. Castiel fidgets, tugging at his sweater that's apparently too big for him.

"Mr. Winchester is hard to please. Perhaps he's different at home, or with you, but I've been working here for a year now beneath the head tailor, and trust me, that man doesn't settle for anything but perfect. I'm surprised he's letting me help. I figured he'd insist on waiting for my boss to be back in town."

"We only have 2 days," Castiel mumbles. "I think it slipped his mind that I needed one…"

The man's eyes bulge. "Two days?"

"Um… yes?"

"Oh god. I hope he's happy with one of these then. The others will need alterations and-" the man stops himself, blushing. "And I'm complaining to his fiance. I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to come off ungrateful. Please don't tell Mr. Winchester I'm worried. I don't want him to doubt us here. He's such a loyal customer."

Castiel tugs at his sweater again, noting that it really is pretty baggy... _Why didn't Dean say anything?_

"You're fine," Castiel mumbles distractedly. "He, uh - he's not patient, though. We should probably try some stuff on soon."

Jolted into action, the tailor seals his lips and begins to strip Castiel like he's nothing more than a mannequin. His eyes light on the finger-shaped bruises on Castiel’s hips and thighs, and the bite marks and hickies on his shoulders and lower throat, but he clamps down on his bottom lip and says nothing, only blushing furiously as he continues until he has Castiel stripped down to the black lace panties that Dean forced him to wear today. Then it's Castiel’s turn to blush furiously.

By the time Castiel is dressed in his first option, both men can't even make eye contact. The tailor mumbles that they should show Mr. Winchester and opens the door for Castiel to exit the room. Castiel curls his hands into fists to hide the fact that they're shaking and walks into the little sitting area.

He doesn't even make it to the little podium in front of the mirrors before Dean is saying, "No."

Castiel freezes, his heart racing. The tailor doesn't fair much better.

"S-sir?" the tailor asks.

"Too fancy. The ruffles, and the stripe. _No_."

Castiel smooths a hand down the slightly ruffled white shirt beneath his jacket, hand trembling. His elbow is grabbed by the tailor and he's brought back into the dressing room. Now he's really fucking nervous. _What if Dean can't find anything he looks good in? Will Castiel lose his invite? Will he have to stay home? Will Dean realize he's not the type that should be proudly showed off to people?_

The next tux is simpler. At least, Castiel thinks so. He walks back out and tries to remember how to breathe as Dean's eyes track his every movement. He makes it to the podium this time, standing there for a few seconds in front of the mirrors before Dean orders, "Face me."

Castiel slowly turns, unable to meet his fiance's eye. He can hear Dean humming softly in thought. Then, "Do you have any undershirts without the black buttons?"

"Yes, sir."

"This tux with one of those. And a goddamn pocket square. White. A crisp 3-point."

"Of course, Mr. Winchester."

Then Castiel is once again being changed. The shirt off, then a new one on. The bow tie secured. The weird waist thing. The jacket. The pocket square that's white and hopefully correctly folded.

He's brought back out. Climbs onto the pedestal.

Dean stands then, walking forward. He steps up behind Castiel on the pedestal and rests a hand on his shoulder. In his ear, for just him to hear, Dean asks, "Does he like your panties?"

Castiel's face goes bright pink as he drops his eyes to the ground and mumbles a soft, "_Sir…_"

Dean chuckles, but his terrorizing pauses for the time being thankfully. He steps off the pedestal and turns Castiel, then takes his hand and helps him step down. They stand a few inches apart, Castiel's chin tilted so he can look up into the man's bright green eyes. Dean smiles warmly at him. Then his look turns hungry, _possessive, _as he studies Castiel's outfit. His fingers flutter over his shoulders, smooth down his satin lapels, tug minutely at the pocket square. He turns Castiel, openly feeling his ass through the pants without a care to their audience. He thumbs at Castiel's hairline, murmuring, "You need a cut," in a way that Castiel doesn't think he's even expected to respond to.

Then Dean stands back and clears his throat, looking at Castiel in the mirrors. Castiel looks right back. It's impossible not to.

"We will take this one. I want your best white cufflinks and black patent leather shoes. Softly pointed toes. He's a size 10."

"Yes, sir. Coming right up!"

"The jacket," Dean muses, grabbing at the back of Castiel’s jacket and pinching it ever so slightly. "Should it be brought in?"

It's posed as a question, but Castiels knows it's not. It seems the tailor has the same knowledge. "We should. I can have that done by morning, if that's not too late?"

"That'll be fine." Dean steps away from Castiel, checking his shiny watch. He licks his lips as he seems to mentally calculate his time. Then, "Go on then and get him a few things for a beginners wardrobe."

"Of course, Mr. Winchester. What styles and aesthetics would you like me to lean toward?"

Dean just looks at him in boredom. "Whatever _he _wants. Listen to him."

"Oh!" the tailor squeaks, then blushes, then nods hard enough to hurt Castiel's head just looking at him. "Of course! Right this way Mr. Uh - Nov-"

"_Winchester," _Dean interrupts sharply, this time catching Castiel by surprise along with the poor tailor. "He's a Winchester."

The tailor parts his lips like he might argue, but he’s smart enough not to. He smiles instead. "Of course. Right this way, Mr. Winchester."

Castiel is placed in front of a wall of jeans, the tailor talking about fits and styles and materials. Designs. Faded versus dark wash. Something about ripped knees. All Castiel keeps hearing is three words on a loop. Three words that will certainly be his undoing. _He's a Winchester._

By the time he's in his dressing room with clothes he doesn't even remember choosing, he's crying softly. The tailor gives him privacy to try everything on. He just stands there staring at himself in the mirror instead.

That's when Dean lets himself into the dressing room, eyes soft, expression kind but concerned. "Hey baby boy."

Castiel sniffles and slaps at the tears on his cheeks. One look at Dean, though, and he's falling apart. Sir chuckles fondly, pulling him in close. "Oh sweetheart, what's the matter, hmmm? Talk to me."

Clinging to Dean like his life depends on it - because it does, doesn't it? - Castiel asks, "Am - am I really a Winchester?"

"Mmm. Of course you are, Cas. Of course you are. You're mine. All mine. I don't care what your name is in some legal system. I don't care about pieces of paper. You're mine already, aren't you?" Castiel nods furiously, crying in pure joy and relief. "Exactly. All mine. You're okay. No reason to cry. No reason at all. I have you, now. I'll always have you."

Castiel whimpers. Then, "I'm sorry, sir!"

This makes Dean stiffen against him. "For… what?"

"My clothes. I didn't know they were b-bad. I didn't wanna dis - disappoint you!"

"Oh, sweetheart. Castiel. No. Your clothes are fucking fine!"

"B-but he said my jeans are too - too tight and my sweaters shouldn't be so - so baggy!"

"I love your baggy sweaters. You look so adorable and comfy in them, just like when you're drowning in my clothes. I don't care if-" Dean stops. Then he pulls back from Castiel, smiling so brightly Castiel has no choice but to stop crying. "Wait - your jeans are too tight?"

"...yeah?"

"Do you know what that means?" Before Castiel can guess, Dean smashes their lips together violently, his mouth hungry and demanding. He growls into the kiss, "You're healthier. You're fucking healthier now." Then he goes back to kissing Castiel so hard Castiel gets dizzy and breathless.

When the kiss breaks again, Dean's eyes are brilliant, his grin heart-stopping. "I'm so proud of you for gaining weight, baby boy. Look at how healthy you're becoming. You're letting me take care of you. That makes me so happy. You're such a good fucking boy."

Castiel blushes, ducking his head. "Thank you, sir…"

"Good boys deserve rewards," Dean informs him, his voice suddenly deep and seductive as it washes over Castiel. "Do you want a reward?"

Castiel shivers. "Yes, sir."

"Strip for me," Dean - no, _sir_, this is definitely _sir _looking at him now, eyes heavy-lidded, tongue slowly wetting his bottom lip - _sir _orders.

Feeling like a live wire, Castiel exposes his body to the man with the power to make him explode, unable to look away from his heated gaze until he's down to his panties. Then he loses his courage, eyes darting elsewhere as he hooks his thumbs into the lace material. Sir stops him. "Keep those on."

Castiel immediately drops his hands, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from speaking out of turn.

"Get on your knees." Castiel obeys, his mind already filling with that safe, fuzzy feeling sir never fails to give him. "Take my cock out, but don't go near it with your pretty mouth."

"Yes, sir."

With careful hands that no longer shake, Castiel undoes sir's belt and buttons, then frees sir's cock from his briefs. It bobs in the air just an inch from his face, already hard, the tip glistening with precum. Castiel licks his lips. It makes sir chuckles. "You wanna taste, sweetheart?"

Castiel swallows a moan, acutely aware of their surroundings and his need to be quiet. He makes sure to whisper when he says, "Yes, sir."

"Go ahead. Get him nice and wet. I didn't bring lube."

A soft gasp falls from Castiel’s lips as he realizes what that means. Sir is going to _fuck_ him. This isn't just a blow job. His reward isn't just sucking sir's cock. His reward is getting sir's cock in his ass. Here. In a _dressing room_. With a tailor and Benny just on the other side of the door. Maybe Benny isn't so bad, considering what he's seen, but the tailor? The man who already saw his body marked up? Who already saw his panties? Castiel feels his face go hot. The man will think he's a slut.

_Because you are one_, Castiel's mind whispers. _And you love it._

With a shudder, Castiel gives into his desires and sucks sir's cock greedily. He still tries to be quiet, wanting to preserve at least a _semblance_ of dignity, but it gets more and more difficult as time goes on, sir fucking into his throat until he gags, spit frothing around the edges of sir's cock and spilling over his lips, making him slurp and gulp to try and contain it all.

By the time sir is manhandling Castiel so his back is to sir's front, Castiel is breathing raggedly, no longer caring who hears him. Sir grins mischievously at him in the mirror. "So noisy. Do you like them listening to you being my slut?"

Castiel groans, resting his head back on sir's shoulder. "Yes, sir…"

"Such a dirty little thing. What am I going to do with you?"

Castiel answers honestly. "Whatever you want, sir."

"Damn right." Sir wraps a hand around Castiel’s throat, holding him in place. His other hands grabs at the delicate fabric of Castiel's panties and yanks until they rip right off of him, Castiel hissing in pain when the lace digs painfully into his skin before snapping. Then he's not making any sound at all because sir is shoving the pre-cum damp panties into his mouth to keep him quiet. "You might be a shameless whore, but I have a reputation to protect. Stay quiet."

With a muffled moan, Castiel nods to show his understanding. A quarter is pressed into the palm of his right hand, sir's eyes meeting his in the mirror. "Drop it if you need to stop." Castiel nods again. He grips the thing tight. He has no intention of stopping this. No fucking way.

Sir presses a finger into him, sighing heavily when there's already some resistance. He pulls it out and spits shamelessly onto his fingers twice. Then he tries again. The finger burns, but it goes in. The second finger makes Castiel tremble and cry. He’s not so sure about this anymore. Sir has always prepped him so carefully…

"You can do this, Castiel," sir whispers in his ear, the man so damn good at knowing what Castiel is thinking. "It'll hurt, but I know you can take it. You want to hurt for me, don't you? If it means I feel good?"

A tear falls down Castiel’s right cheek, but he nods. It's true. He'll hurt as much as sir wants him to. He doesn't even have to come. It'll still be a reward because he made sir happy.

_God, when did that happen? And why isn't it scaring Castiel like it probably should?_

"I love you," sir whispers as he pulls those two fingers out and too quickly begins pressing into his tight, nearly dry hole. He nibbles on Castiel's ear and repeats himself. "I love you. I love you so fucking much."

Castiel is crying in earnest now, his legs shaking, his ass burning, his chest feeling too full in the best way. He tries to say he loves him too, but the panties muffle it. Not that it matters. He knows sir can tell he loves him. This right here is Castiel showing it.

Sir guides Castiel’s arms up and back, wrapping them around his neck so his hands are resting at the base of his skull. Then he uses those large, strong hands of his and grabs Castiel's skinny thighs, pulling his legs up in one go and spreading him wide. Castiel stares at himself in the mirror, feeling exposed and vulnerable and slutty and ready to fucking shatter into a million tiny pieces. The next time sir thrusts up into him, he goes much deeper. Castiel jerks in his hold, a shout failing to escape him because of his gag.

It's not long before sir is biting down on the junction of his shoulder and throat, his hips thrusting violently upward as he slams into Castiel at an impossible speed and strength when considering the position he's holding him up in. Castiel's vision begins to blur when his left leg slips just enough for sir's cock to hone in on his prostate. If sir's evil, blurry smile in the mirror is anything to go by, the man is fully aware of the new discovery. He slams into it mercilessly, until Castiel’s cock is weeping nearly as hard as he is.

Castiel releases a wrecked sob when he feels the first spurt of hot cum inside of him, realization dawning that he's not going to get to come. Sir jerks once more inside him before slowly grinding his hips against Castiel's ass, filling him up with every last drop. He hushes Castiel and kisses his throat, moaning as he finds his release.

Then sir surprises Castiel. He doesn't pull out, keeping his cock buried inside of him, half-hard and twitching with valiant effort to already reach full hardness again. When Castiel's legs are brought back down, his toes touching the ground, sir tips them forward until Castiel catches himself on the mirror, the quarter miraculously staying in his palm but definitely chipping a small piece of the glass mirror when hitting it. Sir wraps a hand around Castiel's cock and begins jacking him off in rough strokes that make him squirm and moan. His other hand grabs Castiel's hair with a fist and forces him to keep his chin up so he can't look away from his own reflection.

"Look at you," sir whispers, flashing Castiel a wicked grin. "You'll let me do anything I want to you, won't you?"

Castiel sobs as warmth flutters through his gut, unsure if sir is going to give him permission to come or deny him. He can't beg, his mouth full of the panties, but that doesn't mean he can stop himself from coming. He's afraid he'll let sir down. He's afraid he won't be able to stop himself. Desperate to be good, Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath, trying not to give in to the pull of his impending orgasm. He tries to say, "Please, sir," but he doesn't think it's coherent enough through the gag. He sobs harder, shaking his head, desperate for sir to understand.

"Look at you," sir says again, this time not in a teasing tone, but in awe. "Do you know how good it feels to see you like this? To know that you trust me enough to wreck you? I've never felt so powerful. Never. You make me feel like I'm a fucking God, Castiel. _You're _God. It's fucking exhilarating."

Castiel wants to argue. He wants to tell sir he's wrong, that he doesn't have that much control over Castiel, that he's not Castiel's God, but it'd be a lie. Such an awful lie. Sir owns him, body, heart, soul. This right here is proof. The man is taking him apart in a fucking boutique dressing room like it's his right. Because it _is _his right. Castiel is his to do with as he pleases. The thought of that is just as exhilarating for Castiel as sir claims it is for himself.

Sir licks a hot stripe up the curve of Castiel's throat. He shudders in sir's hold, his body aching with the effort not to come.

"Come for me," sir orders, eyes locking with Castiel's in the mirror. Castiel gets a glimpse of his own reflection then. Hot, red, flushed. Sweaty. Tear-faced. Desperate and writhing. Cock flushed and leaking. "Come on, sweetheart. Come for me."

Castiel jerks once before going taught, emptying himself in shuddery waves as he gasps wetly into his gag. Sir doesn't let go, wringing him out until he's boneless in sir's arms. He whispers praise and soft, sweet nothings. _I've got you_ and _so good for me _and _such a beautiful boy _and _I love you_ all blend together in Castiel's mind, his eyes falling closed as he sighs in happiness.

He distantly feels sir cleaning him up. He's dressed in his clothes from before, minus his underwear which are wrecked now. Sir kisses him and holds him and whispers to him some more. Then he bribes Castiel to open his eyes and be a strong boy while they finish their shopping with the promise of a chocolate shake from his favorite fast food place and cuddles in the car.

"What about the other clothes, sir?" Castiel asks when his sleepy eyes fall on the clothes the tailor had picked for him to try on.

Sir frowns at the selection. "Do you want them?"

"I wanna look good for you…"

"I don't care, Cas. I don't care what you wear."

"But…" Castiel picks at his sweater, feeling too off-kilter to try and hide his emotions right now. "But you took the tux so seriously..."

Sir cups his cheeks, smiling down at him. "Because your father will be there, and I want him to see how well you're doing with me. I want him to be fucking stunned when he sees you healthy, happy, fucking glowing, by my side. I want him to realize he didn't hurt you by doing this. He didn't hurt me. I want him to realize he didn't win. He's never going to win. That's the only reason, sweetheart. Don't get me wrong, I want to give you nice things and pamper you and dress you up and take you to fancy places and on exotic trips and give you the fucking world, but only if you want those things. Okay?"

Castiel sighs. He has no fucking idea how he got so lucky, but he doesn't care. "Okay."

\----

Benny noticed the man watching them when they first walked into the boutique, but he had given him the benefit of the doubt, not even telling Dean. But then he saw the man walk by the windows twice during the fitting, which was why he told Dean while Castiel used the restroom that they may have a problem.

Dean tells Benny to keep an eye out before grabbing Castiel's hand and pulling the boy along. The boy needs a haircut and a bit of pampering, which Dean plans on doing the day of the masquerade ball, the workers coming to the house instead. He wants to test their possible tail, though, so Dean brings Castiel down to the salon Dean’s personal hair dresser owns, walking the 3 blocks to give the man more opportunity to spy on them - therefore giving Benny more opportunity to catch him in the act.

Dean pretends to be distracted more than he is, pointing things out to Castiel and staring at him a lot like he can't see the world apart from him. He kisses him, their steps stumbling. He laughs with him. Whispers to him. He plays the part of idiot in love, letting their tail believe he's currently reckless.

The tail makes his mistake when Dean leads Castiel inside the salon under the guise of introducing him to the hairdresser, Benny trailing in behind them. Overconfident, the man walks right into the trap, not realizing that Benny had left Dean and Castiel inside and taken the side door into the alley.

Three minutes later, Benny comes back into the salon looking composed, no sign of a struggle other than a smudge of blood on the knuckle of his right forefinger. As Castiel picks the scent profile he'd like used during his pampering session on Saturday before the ball, Benny says into Dean's ear, "It's handled."

They head home. Castiel gets his promised McDonald's. Dean spends the ride running his fingers through Castiel’s hair and stealing his fries, dipping them in the boy's milkshake just to rile him up. He likes the way Castiel looks when he pretends to be grumpy. All pouty-faced and crinkled eyebrows and scrunched nose. It makes Dean want to kiss the fuck out of him.

When there's the slightest bump from the trunk, not from the drugged unconscious body fighting for freedom but from the drugged unconscious body sliding to the side when Benny takes a turn a little too hard, Dean grabs the back of Castiel's head and pulls him into a deep kiss as a distraction. Castiel sighs happily. He tastes like chocolate and salt, his tongue cold as he slides it against Dean's with surprising confidence.

When they get to the house, Dean takes Castiel’s elbow in his hand and pulls him in close to whisper in his ear. “I want you to go to our bathroom, strip out of your things, place them in the laundry basket, and draw us a bath with the lavender oil in the purple crystal bottle. If I’m not back by the time it’s full, I want you to turn the water off and kneel on a folded towel at the bathroom door. I’ll be there in just a moment, okay?”

Castiel hums in pleasure, lips spreading into a beautiful smile. “Yes, sir.”

The minute Castiel is out of sight, Dean turns to Benny with a flat expression. "Handle the son of a bitch per usual. Don't let anyone talk to him or touch him. Have Garth guard the door from the outside. Have Ash try to track down his identity. I'll come visit our newest guest once Cas is asleep. Send me any updates on my phone."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Benny?" Dean says, stopping Benny before he can go back outside to retrieve their package from the trunk. "Tell Ellen I'd like pie for dessert tonight. There's nothing better than pie and ice cream before a good information extraction."

\----

Belly full of warm apple pie and Ellen's homemade vanilla ice cream, Dean tucks Castiel into bed and heads down to the dungeons. He mirrors Garth's wicked grin when he gets to the door, giving him a wink as Garth steps aside. He tells Garth to go ahead and call it a night. Dean plans on killing this fucker when he's done with him, and then he'll just call in some rookies to clean the mess up. There's no reason for Garth to have to stick around.

The man is younger than Dean had thought he'd be. No older than early 20s. He's hanging by his wrists from the ceiling's restraint system, his tiptoes grazing the cold cement ground. Water is pooled at his feet and his hair is damp, but he's been down here long enough for the rest of the cold water on his body to evaporate. It's a shame the system doesn't allow the room to go beneath freezing temperatures. Maybe Dean should install a meat locker. He wonders if that'd be fun to use. Surely for the ones that stay longer than just a few hours. Hell, maybe even Castiel would be into temperature play. Mmm. That would be fun. Get the boy freezing cold, then overwhelm him with the heat of Dean's mouth and fingers and cock. Maybe some hot wax. He'd whimper so beautifully.

Dean rubs himself through his pants as he appreciates the sight of the naked and vulnerable young man before him. Castiel would look so damn beautiful with red wax drizzled over his pretty pale skin.

_Damn._

Smiling to himself, Dean shrugs out of his suit jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair. He slides his cufflinks off next, placing them safely in his pocket. As he assesses the body in front of him, he rolls his sleeves to his elbows. Then he loosens his tie and frees the top two buttons of his shirt.

There's a small table full of instruments by the body. Dean hovers his hand over them, considering. There's a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in the corner, most likely Benny's. He always smokes when he's doing something dark or dirty. It's been a long time since Dean last smoked, but something feels right about it tonight. He places a cigarette between his lips and uses the lighter to ignite the tip, sucking poison into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds before expelling it.

A scalpel snags his attention. Shiny. Sparkling in the low lighting. Smelling of cleaning solution. A pretty instrument of pain. Dean picks it up and twirls it between his fingers.

"I don't believe we've met," Dean begins, using his free hand to hold his cigarette as he speaks. The man just tugs at the leather strips restraining him, forcing them to bite into his skin and draw blood. It's such a stupid thing to do. Disappointing, really. Dean sighs. "I'll start, then. I'm Dean. And you are?"

The man glares at Dean, before yanking at his bindings again. Dean watches in mild amusement.

Then, "It's really not polite to ignore someone. Didn't your boss teach you that? Oh, wait, Chuck doesn't have good manners either..."

The man locks up, body going taut as he stares at Dean in true fear now. Dean chuckles at the reaction. It wasn't hard to find out who this man is. It was even easier to find out who he was working for. The angels had kept him off the payroll as if that would stop Ash from figuring it out. All Ash had to do was look at the idiot's phone records. He's been at the Angel mansion every day for the last 2 weeks.

Dean slides the scalpel along the man's ribcage, using the flat of it so the man escapes injury. He still gasps as if it hurts him. Dean smirks. "I suggest you introduce yourself before my mood gets worse."

"You know already," the man growls. "I know you know. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"That's debatable." Dean takes a slow drag from his cigarette, then leans forward and taps the ashes off the tip onto the man's shoulder. The guy jerks, more out of surprise than pain most likely. "Last chance to introduce yourself."

"Tamiel," the man mumbles grudgingly.

"Ahh. Yes. _Tamiel._ Not so hard, right?"

Tamiel grunts, looking off to the side. He's trying to seem tough and unafraid. It's amusing. Dean glances at his watch and decides to see how long the bravado will last, pressing on a button for a timer to begin.

"Tammy," Dean coos, dragging the scalpel along the curve of the man's throat and down his chest. He pauses, scalpel digging into the skin just above the man's belly button, dimpling the skin without drawing blood. He cocks his head to the side and gives Tamiel his best charming smile. "Can I call ya Tammy?"

Tamiel just glares at Dean.

"Yeah, I think I'll call ya Tammy. So, Tammy," Dean begins the journey with his scalpel again, tracing the rim of Tamiel's belly button slowly before beginning to drag the blade towards his throat. He flicks his wrist to change the angle of the weapon just as it's gliding over the man's nipple. Tamiel makes a satisfyingly awful sound when the blade cuts into the vulnerable flesh there, but then he grits his teeth and refuses to let any other sound escape him. Dean grins. He loves having to pull noises from his victims. Way more fun when he finally earns their screams. "So, Tammy, do you like going to the salon?"

"Not particularly." He gives Dean a cocky smile, then adds, "I'm more interested in the clientele."

Dean chuckles, the sound dark and dangerous enough to make Tamiel sink in on himself. This idiot obviously has no idea what he's dealing with. That's fine. Dean is happy to show him.

Tossing the scalpel back on the table, Dean searches for a better instrument of pain. He decides on a pair of serrated pliers. His eyes stay glued on them as he walks back to his victim, Dean appreciating the weight and look of them. He hasn't used these in a long time.

"Do you like your toes or your fingers better?" Dean asks, glancing up at Tamiel now. "If you had to choose."

True panic begins to sink in, the man's eyes going wide. "Listen, man, I was just there to watch, okay? I don't _know _anything!"

Dean sucks on his cigarette before blowing the smoke at the man with a smile. "Interesting. I didn't ask if you knew anything."

"Oh. I - well - well, yeah, I - I -"

Dean sighs. "I'm bored now." Then he clamps the pliers on the joint of Tamiel's left forefinger, twists, and pulls. He finally gets the guy to scream. The sound is followed by a wrecked sob. Dean flicks his gaze to his watch, pressing the same button as before for the timer. 2 minutes 17 seconds.

Disappointing.

"As I was saying," Dean says casually as he drags the tip of the bloody pliers down the man's front. Tamiel is shaking violently now. "Do you like the salon?"

"N-no," Tamiel whispers, his eyes locked on the pliers as Dean uses them to spread blood through the man's curly happy trail. "Was just there to spy on you and-"

"Don't say his name," Dean warns. "You won't like what happens."

Tamiel is smart enough to listen. "I was just there to spy on you guys."

"Who sent you?"

He shakes his head, eyes pleading with Dean as if Dean would just drop the subject out of the goodness of his heart. Those eyes bulge comically when Dean grabs the man's flaccid cock with the pliers. "Do you like playing games, Tammy?"

"I - I don't know."

"I do. I _love_ them. Play a game with me, Tammy. Will you do that?"

Tamiel gulps. "Y-yes. Sure. Ok-kay."

"Good boy." Dean pats the man's cheeks and relaxes the pliers until his cock falls against his thigh. Tamiel gasps in relief, blinking back tears. "The rules are simple. I ask a question. If you answer, I don't hurt you. If you waste my time, I hurt you. Easy enough, right?"

"Yes."

"Yes, _sir,_" Dean corrects. "I currently hold your life in my hands, Tammy. Show me some fucking respect."

Dean adds to the point by grabbing the man's uninjured nipple with the pliers and twisting until the skin rips. After shrieking like a newborn, Tamiel half-gasps, half-sobs, "Sir! Yes, sir!"

"There we go. Such a fast learner. Good boy." Dean exchanges the pliers with the scalpel again. "Let the game begin."

\----

"Let the game begin," Dean rasps in a low, sexy voice that does things to Castiel that it really shouldn't considering the situation. He knows he should leave. He knew that from the moment he found Dean down here, in the middle of torturing a man in his creepy dungeon.

No one had stopped him when he went looking for Dean. In fact, Castiel had only passed one person the whole journey, and that was one of the night guards who just simply smiled and nodded at him. When he had woken up alone in their bed, he had assumed Dean was in his office. That's where Castiel had looked first. That's also where Castiel bumped Dean's computer mouse and found the security system pulled up on his monitor, playing soundless footage of the dungeons as Dean stood in front of a naked man hanging from the ceiling. Castiel knew then that he should go back to bed. He knew when he got close enough to the dungeon door to first hear the man scream. He knew when he peeked around the corner to find Dean using bloody pliers to hold onto the man's soft cock. He knew when he watched the man he loves nearly rip off his victim's nipple. He knew when he inched closer and saw the blood trickling down the man's body in dark red streams.

But there's something… _electric_ about Dean right now. He's clearly in his element. Uninhibited. Dangerous. Powerful. It's a darkly beautiful artistry that Castiel can't get himself to look away from.

He also can't get himself to feel guilty about the desire pooling in his gut as he watches his fiance, his _dominant_, work the man over, making the man call him sir just like Castiel.

And now they're playing their game. Castiel's heart races as he watches.

"First question," Dean says in that steady, low voice of his that he sometimes uses in the playroom when he's considering what to do next. He's stalking in front of the man as he speaks, expensive dress shoes snicking seductively against the cement floor. He looks unbelievably sexy. "How long have you been working for the angel's?"

Castiel’s stomach flips. _This man works for the angels? But… aren't the angels and the hunters allies now? Why would Dean be hurting one?_

"2 years, sir."

"Good boy," Dean coos. It should bother Castiel to hear those words in this context, he _knows _that, but it does the opposite. It sends a sick thrill through him. "See? That wasn't so hard. Now tell me, Tammy, are you a member of the archangels, or are you just a member of the garrison?"

Tammy hesitates.

It earns him a hard punch straight to his nose, blood splattering in every direction, some of it even spraying across Dean's shirt. If Dean notices, he doesn't show it. He just calmly says, "Don't waste my time."

"S-sorry sir!" the man gasps. "Sorry!"

"I won't repeat my question. Answer it."

"Garrison, sir. But - but tryin' to earn a spot in arch-archangels."

"Was this a job you were given to prove yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmmm." Dean starts dragging the tip of what looks like a very sharp blade along the curve of the man's cheek. The man whimpers, but he holds perfectly still. "And what was your job, _exactly_?"

Tammy shakes his head, another cry falling from his lips despite Dean not touching him. "Just to watch, s-"

Dean doesn't let him finish. He puts his cigarette out on the man's cheek. The man screams, bucking wildly in his restraints. Castiel hadn't even known Dean smoked. _Why is that hot too?_

Maybe it's just that everything is hot when it comes to Dean…

"Shhh." Dean steadies Tammy, helping him gain balance on his toes. The man is short enough for them to be face to face despite the chains pulling him toward the ceiling. Dean cradles Tammy's head to his neck, just like he would when Castiel is upset. He even strokes a gentle hand down the man's spine. Tammy shudders, actually leaning into the touch. "There you go. Just relax. Be my good boy."

Castiel shifts, a sudden wave of jealousy surging through him. He bites his bottom lip to keep from speaking.

After a few more seconds, Dean steps back from the man. He tilts his head and smiles. His hand cups the man's cock, stroking it gently, massaging him, getting him hard. Castiel bites the tip of his thumbnail, aroused and disgusted, entertained and jealous.

Once he has Tammy's cock nice and hard, Dean asks, "What was your job, _exactly_?"

Castiel holds his breath.

The man looks into Dean's eyes like Dean hung the moon, his hips gently swaying as he begs Dean's hand for _more._ "W-watch him, sir. Ca - _him_."

"Mmm." Dean runs the pads of his thumb along the man's slit, collecting precum. Tammy moans, his head falling forward. "Watch him for what?"

"S-sir, please." Castiel isn't sure if the man is pleading for mercy, or for more.

Dean doesn't seem to care. He just tsks and shakes his head, walking over to his little table of scary looking instruments. As he pulls on a pair of leather gloves, he says, "Such a naughty boy. You know the rules, sweetheart."

_Sweetheart_.

Castiel’s heart beats in his throat.

Tammy is begging now. Apologizing. Dean doesn't hear it. He just dips his leather covered hand in a small container of liquid and walks back over to his victim. Then he flicks his fingers. Drops of the mystery fluid hit the man's chest and stomach. They _smoke_. The man shrieks.

Dean chuckles.

Castiel rubs himself through his pants, ashamed, but unable to stop himself.

Dean uses a wipe that smells like bleach on the man, ignoring his wrecked sobs as he cleans the area that was just injured. Then he takes his gloves off and sighs softly. Almost _fondly_. "You ready to try again, sweetheart?"

"Ye-ee-ees!" the man sobs. "Sir, plee-eease!"

"Shhh." Dean cups the back of the man's head, resting his forehead against Tammy's. His other hand starts stroking his cock again, slowly working him back into a state of arousal. Castiel knows what that feels like. Not to this scale, of course, but he does. That sudden shift from pain to pleasure. The relief. The gratitude.

Dean cups Tammy's chin and tilts his head back. Then he swipes his tongue over his cheeks, licking his tears. Castiel bites down on his bottom lip, swallowing a moan. Tammy doesn't swallow his. He lets it loose, the sound low and needy.

"What were you watching him for?" Dean coos, still stroking his cock as he starts to pepper kisses down the side of the man's throat.

"To see if he's'appy, sir," the man slurs, losing himself in the pleasure Dean's offering him, his mind clearly slipping away. It's a tactic, Castiel realizes. A mind game. Dean is mind fucking this man. Castiel can't help but wonder what that'd feel like. Sure, Dean controls his mind when they play - even when they don't - but he doesn't fuck it. He doesn't let his inner monster come out and play. He doesn't do anything close to this.

God, it'd be_ awful._

Castiel wants it. Not all of it, but some of it. He wants Dean to release his sadist. Clearly, it's been kept on a very tight leash. He wants to loosen the slack. Invite it to play. Predator and prey. A sick, sexy game.

Castiel is definitely going to hell.

At least he'll be with Dean...

"Why? Why do they care if he's happy?"

Tammy is now resting his forehead against Dean's shoulder, using him as an anchor while Dean works his cock. He sighs, the sound almost… happy. "Wanna kill you, sir."

"What does that have to do with him, sweetheart?"

"Wanna know if he's a traitor, sir. Wanna know if they gotta kill him too."

Dean hums softly, as if this information doesn't bother him. "Are you the only one watching?"

"Yessir." Tammy gasps, then whimpers. "Oh please, sir. That feels..._oh_"

"I know," Dean says in response. Castiel can hear the smirk in his voice. "You're doing so well. Just a little more, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"_Yes_, sir."

"Good boy." Dean reaches into his back pocket for something. It's small enough for Castiel not to be able to see it before he has his hand wrapped around it. The other hand is still working Tammy towards a clearly impending orgasm. "Tell me the truth sweetheart, and sir will let you come. Okay?"

The man tosses his head back, releasing a wrecked sound. He starts to buck harder against Dean's hand, not to get away, but to get _more_.

"Anything. Anything, sir. Please. _Please_. It all hurts. Need - need this."

"I know, sweetheart. I know. Sir will help you. Just one more question, okay?"

The man nods rapidly, whimpering and shuddering, little gasps falling from his lips.

"Have you reported anything about what you've seen yet to anyone?"

"J-jus' - jus' notes. In my phone. Haven't sent 'em yet, sir. Don't have enough yet."

"Mmm." Dean presses his lips to the man's temple, then orders in a seductive voice that sends a shiver down Castiel's spine, "Come for me."

The man in chains obeys, arching his back as he splatters cum across Dean's front. He cries out in ecstasy.

Then he's crying out in shock. Pain.

Then he's limp in the restraints, a small knife sticking out of his neck right where his carotid artery is. The blood is already slowing from the wound, his heart no longer pumping it out.

Dean steps back, rolling his head on his shoulders. Then he cups his cock through his pants and moans. Castiel echoes the noise on accident, too focused on the fact that Dean - _sir _\- is aroused and dangerous, a surprisingly sexy combination Castiel isn't smart enough to fear.

Sir's head snaps up and over at the sound. He stares at Castiel for a second, his expression blank, almost like he doesn't recognize him. Then his bloody, cum-soaked hands twitch at his sides and he takes a step forward. Just one, before stopping himself.

The first word out of sir's mouth is a simple one, yet it holds enough weighty emotion that Castiel feels buried beneath it.

"_Fuck_." Then, a moment after, like a whispered prayer, "_Cas…_"

Like an idiot, Castiel asks, "Is he dead?"

Sir turns his chin to glance at the man's body, then looks back at Castiel. He seems to steel himself. "Yes."

When Castiel doesn't say anything, not because he's upset but because he can't think of anything to say, sir takes a step back. His hands curl into fists. When he exhales, it shakes. "Are you afraid of me now?"

Castiel licks his lips, then shakes his head minutely. "No."

Sir's eyebrows raise. His chest rises and falls. "What?"

"It was…" Castiel drops his gaze to the ground, suddenly much more ashamed of himself than he was a minute ago.

"It was?" sir prompts.

Castiel looks up at the man through his eyelashes. "Fucking hot, sir."

Something shifts in the air around them. Castiel isn’t sure if it's because of his admission or because of the title he used. All he knows is that sir's uncertainty is suddenly absent, and a darkness has settled in his eyes. A darkness Castiel had never seen before tonight.

"How much did you see?" he asks with the same head tilt he had used on Tammy.

Castiel shudders. "A - a lot, sir. I saw when you…" he looks away again, feeling his face go hot.

Sir steps closer. The sound of his Berluti shoes on the concrete is dangerous. Erotic. He doesn't stop this time, walking forward until Castiel can feel the heat rippling off of him.

Until Castiel can smell the salty scent of cum. The sharp iron of blood.

"When I?" sir asks, his body _so close_, but not close enough.

"When you were touching him, sir." Castiel closes his eyes, remembering the moment. The vulnerable man with his soft cock, bloody pliers _right there_, his fate at sir's mercy. "His cock, sir. With the - the pliers." Castiel shudders, but not in disgust. He's sick. He knows he is.

Then again, that guy was the enemy. He was trying to get information on them. He was going to help kill them. Or at least kill sir. _Dean_. That's fucking unacceptable.

"Did you like it?" sir asks, his voice husky. Low. He moves again, his soiled white shirt whispering against Castiel's front. Castiel whimpers. Sir grabs his throat, hand firm despite the slick fluids coating it. He squeezes beneath Castiel’s chin and uses the grip to tilt his head back until they're looking into each other's eyes. Sir is softly panting. His cock is impossibly hard where it digs into Castiel’s stomach. "I asked you a fucking question."

Castiel whimpers again, his hips moving unconsciously to try and get friction against his own erection. "Yes," he admits. "Yes, sir."

This makes sir pause. He looks down at where Castiel is now shamelessly grinding against him. His lips twitch. When he looks at Castiel's face again, he's doing that head tilt. He grins. It's a wicked thing. Dangerous. Intoxicating. "You should be afraid of me, little boy. I could eat you alive."

"Please," Castiel begs. It's not a beg for mercy. Sir knows that. His nostrils flare. His eyes flash.

Then Castiel is dropped so suddenly he falls straight to the ground, his hands rubbing raw as he catches himself. He looks up at the man looming above him and for the first time, he feels the fear. Sir must sense it. His shoulders square. His chin tilts down. His voice sounds tortured as he reminds Castiel, "You have safewords."

Castiel nods, trancelike, his mind and body already giving themselves over to the beast that's captured him. "Yellow and red, sir."

Sir groans, palming his cock through his pants. Then he grabs Castiel by the hair and halls him up on his knees, dragging him across the flooring until his face is smashing up against sir's fabric covered erection. There's a stray bit of come there, right by his zipper.

"Does that fucking digust you?" sir growls, but he fails to hide the slight tremble in his voice. The terror that Castiel _is _disgusted. That his true self is too much for Castiel to handle.

Castiel tries to shake his head, but the grip on his hair doesn't allow it. He speaks instead. "No, sir."

"Prove it." He presses Castiel's face harder against his front.

Castiel instinctively knows what his sir wants. He darts his tongue out and licks along the length of his sir's trapped cock, not hesitating as he collects a dead man's semen on the way.

Sir's body jerks one time. Then his hands are all over Castiel, violent and frantic, manhandling him until he can smash their mouths together. The kiss is all teeth and anger. Violent and frantic, just like his hands as they keep grabbing at him, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Then sir is tearing himself away, stumbling back. He gasps for air. Puts a hand up when Castiel sways forward. "No. I - _no._ Go upstairs. Go to the bedroom. No, go - go to Benny. Benny’s room. I’ll shower and fucking calm down and then come get you. Okay?"

Castiel gapes at the man. "No!"

"Castiel-" Dean warns, and it _is_ Dean, because Castiel can see sir, can see him fighting and clawing to get back out, to play, to hunt, to hurt, to fuck. "I'm not - this isn't who I want to be with you. I'm too keyed up. I'll fucking hurt you. I'll _destroy_ you."

Castiel steps forward. Dean steps back. Castiel doesn't stop, but Dean is against a wall.

Dean looks at Castiel like Castiel is the dangerous one.

Sir looks at Castiel like Castiel is his saving grace and he's on his goddamn death bed.

"I have my safewords, sir," Castiel whispers in what he hopes is a seductive way. "Destroy me."

"Castiel, you don't know what you're asking for."

"Make me hurt, sir." Castiel grabs Dean's hand, winding their fingers together. Dean stares at the place where they're touching. "Let me hurt for you."

Dean swallows hard, eyes still locked on their hands. He takes a slow, shaky breath. Then he whispers almost incredulously, "You put half the shit I'd do to you on your hard limits, Cas… Or at least your soft. Hell, one of my favorite things to do to my victims is my own hard limit."

"What one is that?"

"Weapon play. Cutting. Blood play." Dean looks into Castiel’s eyes. "We both agreed no to that."

Castiel looks at the dead body. He remembers how hot it was to watch the knife drag along the man's body. How exhilarating he imagined it would be. "I trust you not to go too far. I trust you not to hurt me in a bad way."

"_Castiel_," Dean growls. "No."

And then Castiel does something really very stupid. In his defense, it's the middle of the night, he's tired, he's horny, and he just witnessed his first murder.

Castiel pulls his hand free of Dean's and swings, smacking the man across the face hard enough to make his palm sting. Dean’s jaw sets. His eyes harden. Then he inhales once, holds it, and when he exhales, he's sir. 100% sir.

"Big. Fucking. Mistake." Before Castiel can respond, sir is grabbing him by the hair and dragging him across the dungeon. They pass the dead body. Castiel shudders. _The man who did that is about to hurt him._

He whimpers in fear.

He whimpers in painful arousal.

"I was thinking about you while I interrogated him tonight," sir says in a far away, matter-of-fact voice that makes Castiel feel small and insignificant. "I do that all the time now. They're an outlet. I do to them all of the things I want so fucking badly to do to you."

Castiel stumbles as he's shoved unceremoniously against the nearest wall. "L-like what, sir?"

"Let me show you." Sir grins at him. It's awful. Sinister. Castiel's stomach swoops. _You have a safeword_, Dean's soft voice reminds him in his mind. _You're safe. It's just a game._

_Roleplay._

_With a murderer._

_Oh god…_

“S-sir?”

“Color?”

“Green, sir. But-”

“But nothing. Shut the fuck up or I’ll gag you.”

Castiel swallows hard, his cock twitching. He shouldn’t be turned on by this. It’s already fucking with his mind. He whimpers as sir harshly tugs his wrist up to the left, the man quickly buckling him into a leather cuff that's attached to chains coming from the ceiling. Then his other wrist is being grabbed. Sir’s movements are sharp and violent, but they’re purposeful in a way that reminds Castiel that he’s safe. He might not bring attention to it or ask Castiel if they feel okay, but sir slips his finger between both cuffs, checking the fit. His hands run tauntingly over Castiel’s shoulders, but the way his fingers press, his eyes trained on Castiel’s expression, makes Castiel think it’s another bodily check-in.

His ankles are cuffed next, attaching to chains in the floor.

Then sir is standing up and stepping back, smirking as he takes in Castiel’s spread out, vulnerable body.

Castiel’s eyes drift over to the man that’s hanging limp and dead just a few feet away from him, the sight making him shudder. He’s grateful when a blindfold slips over his eyes a moment later. He knows it’s sir’s way of telling him not to look at that. Not to pay attention. He knows it’s his way of telling Castiel this is different.

With a breath, Castiel sinks into that fuzzy space he usually feels as he’s kneeling in anticipation for sir. Everything feels impossibly heightened between the blindfold and the dungeon and sir’s inner monster being let loose. He’s panting already, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “If my men were here, they’d be the ones tying you up. They’d probably touch you. Play a little. How would that feel, hmmm? To have all of those men lay their dirty hands on you?”

Castiel whimpers, picturing it. Benny would be there, overseeing it all, making sure it’s done right for Dean. He’d be standing back and watching with that heated gaze of his that Castiel’s already felt before. Maybe he’d touch him. Fondle him. Whisper dirty things to him. Then they’d all leave, walk out the door without a thought to him, chuckling and teasing and shooting a warning over their shoulders that he better pray the boss is in a good mood tonight. And then Castiel would just be left here. Hanging. Vulnerable. Waiting for the master of his fate. Dean Winchester.

“I’d leave you here for a while to stew. Get some other things done. It’s not like you’re a priority. At the end of it all, I plan on murdering you. Why would I be in a hurry?” Something cold runs down the curve of Castiel’s neck. He yelps, which earns him a very dark, very dangerous laugh from the man he loves. “I’d probably go fuck my fiance first. Hold him close. Tuck him in. Kiss his forehead. He’d get my heart. You’d get my fucked up mind and my cock.”

The thought that sir has separated Castiel the fiance and Castiel the victim in his dungeon just like Castiel has separated Dean and sir should be terrifying.

It’s not.

“Please,” Castiel whispers. “Let me go.”

It feels like the world goes very still around him.

Then, “Color?”

Castiel closes his eyes, even though he’s wearing a blindfold. He closes his eyes in shame. In fear. In relief. In ecstasy. “Green. Now let me the fuck go.”

That dark, dangerous laugh returns again. “My men would strip you. Did I mention that? Strip you and douse you in freezing cold water.”

“Would?” Castiel says in a dangerous taunt. “What makes me special?”

Sir pauses. Maybe he’s considering the question. Maybe he’s busy getting a weapon. Maybe he’s just standing there enjoying the way Castiel is fighting not to squirm in uncertainty.

Then, in a very low, dangerous voice, sir says, “You’re not special. You’re nothing.”

And then… _nothing_. Absolutely nothing.

Castiel listens to the heavy pants of his breathing, the thud of his frantic heart, the rasp of his skin against concrete, the jingle of the chains. There’s no other sound.

Until there is.

The door. It opens, a slight creak to it. Then it slams shut.

Castiel holds perfectly still, staring wide eyed behind his blindfold. He holds his breath until his lungs threaten to burst. Then he releases it all in a gush of air and asks, “Sir?”

Nothing.

“S-sir?”

Nothing.

He left. He… _left_. Because Castiel is nothing. He’s not special. Sir has other things to do. He’ll come deal with him when he’s ready.

Castiel moans at the thought, even as his belly fills with an acidic threat of fear. He starts to count in his head. If it gets too long, he’ll say yellow. Surely sir is watching him somehow. Listening to him. He’s the one who promised the bluetooth when Castiel had mentioned being nervous about being in the playroom alone.

_No,_ Castiel’s mind corrects him. _Dean promised the bluetooth. Sir - this version of sir, this true sir, the monster you begged to hurt you - promised you nothing._

Yellow.

Just say it.

Say-

The door creaks back open.

Sir is here.

He’s here.

He came back.

Except, he can’t be sure of that, can he? Because the person isn’t talking. It could be sir. It could be someone else. Castiel listens closely. It’s only one set of footsteps. He wouldn’t leave Castiel alone with one of his men. Not ever.

Unless it was Benny.

Hands touch him. Warm. Heavy. Castiel shudders, his mind racing, his stomach filling with an acidic threat of fear.

“S-sir?”

“Boss is busy right now,” that gruff voice Castiel has come to know rumbles in his ear. One of Benny’s hands skates across his stomach, hot through the thin fabric of his shirt. Castiel sighs in relief. Benny. It’s just Benny. “I was told to get you ready for him.”

Castiel bites down on his lip, not sure what to do now. He wasn’t prepared for a third party. Does he beg for mercy? Beg Benny to help him? Or would that scare Benny off?

The very distinct sound of a knife flipping open echoes through the space around them. Castiel goes still, his breathing picking back up.

“Now be a good boy and hold very still for me. You don’t want me to cut you, do you?”

Castiel whimpers. “No.”

“Maybe I should, though. Give you a taste of what’s to come. Show you how we treat our enemies.”

Enemies.

Benny’s playing the game too.

“Fuck you and fuck Dean Winchester!”

The man’s laugh is a slow, rumbling thing. It reminds Castiel of thunderstorms, far away entities that grow in volume and danger as they roll closer. His shirt is yanked forward, part of the fabric ripping. “You’re lucky the boss wants you for himself. But I’ll make sure to pass along the message, so he can deal with that attitude of yours properly.”

Castiel huffs, even though he’s suddenly feeling the urge to grin. Sir told Benny not to hurt him. He wants Castiel all to himself, even during this sick little game they’ve decided to play. It’s thrilling. It’s all he needed to once again feel sure about this.

The sound of fabric ripping returns as Benny cuts it with his knife. He dances the blade seductively around Castiel’s left nipple, catching him by surprise. It pulls a gasp from him. Benny laughs again. Castiel thinks maybe he hears sir laugh too, but he’s not positive. If he did, the man is far away. Muted.

Even though he knows logically that he’s not going to get hurt with the knife, he still sags in relief when the blade stops touching him. But then he’s hearing the same sound as before, this time louder and angrier as Benny uses the knife on his pants. A bark of laughter startles him a moment later, which is when he remembers that he’s not wearing anything beneath. He was asleep a little while ago! He didn’t care about grabbing underwear!

Feeling his face go hot, Castiel drops his chin. Benny doesn’t let it go. “I’ll make sure to tell the boss what a little slut you are. Did you hope to get caught? Is that it, little angel? Did you want Dean Winchester to make you his?”

Castiel whimpers, but then shakes his head furiously. “No.” His voice cracks despite it only being a single syllable. Benny hears it. He laughs harder, a hand running along the curve of one of his bare hips. He jerks away.

“Oh, the boss is going to have so much fun with you.” Benny leans forward, the heat of him against Castiel’s front feeling good, but dangerous. “Might want to try and get that pretty little cock to soften before he comes in. Unless you want him getting the wrong idea. Or the right idea. Whatever you choose to tell yourself, I suppose.”

“Fuck you,” Castiel growls. He can feel the slow trickle of precum as it slides down the slight curve of his hard, bobbing cock.

“No, little angel,” Benny says in amusement, his body heat disappearing. “It’ll be the boss that’s fucking you.”

Before Castiel can respond, his body is being assaulted by freezing cold water. It feels like needles along his skin. He tries gritting his teeth, wanting to act tough, but when Benny turns the spray onto his genitals he loses the battle. He shrieks. Benny laughs cruelly.

The water turns off, leaving him dripping wet.

The door opens again. Closes.

And Castiel waits.

Everything seems to slow. Time. His heart. His breathing. His thoughts. He’s not sure if he waits for hours, or minutes. He’s not sure if he’s sleepy, or exhilarated. He’s not sure if he’s really in trouble, or if this is still just a game.

He's left long enough for the drops of water on his body to stop rolling downward. Long enough for his skin to turn frigid. Long enough for his teeth to begin to chatter.

Then a sound comes from Castiel’s left. He startles, sucking in his breath and holding it as he waits. His ears buzz with the strain of trying to hear noise where there is none. _No one should be in here making noise, right?_ Benny left, the door closing behind him, and the door hasn’t opened again. It’s a noisy door.

The sound comes again. Louder. Metal instruments on a table, clinking together, a daunting sound in the otherwise silent dungeon. Castiel swallows a whimper.

Footsteps begin coming toward him, heavy with intent. Something clicks - a lighter, maybe? The person inhales deeply. Exhales the same. Castiel coughs, cigarette smoke suddenly in his face. He’s pissed at himself for not noticing the person getting so close to him. For letting his guard down. This could be anyone.

It should be no one.

The door never fucking opened.

The smoke comes again, making Castiel choke and sputter. He jerks in his cuffs and growls, “Fuck you!”

His tormentor chuckles. It’s full of dark amusement, and familiarity. Castiel releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. _Sir_.

“I don’t know why,” sir says very casually, almost as if talking to himself. He takes another drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke into Castiel’s blindfolded face again, ignoring his coughs. “But torture is so much better with a good cigarette. Do you smoke, Castiel?”

“No,” Castiel growls, his breath hitching as he fights the urge to continue coughing. He doesn’t want to appear weak. “I don’t fucking smoke.”

“Probably for the best. These things can kill ya.” Sir laughs at his own joke. He starts to walk again, his footsteps echoing in the open space around them. “Although, I’m going to be killing you, so it’s not exactly like it would have mattered. Do you regret the decision, I wonder? You can smoke now if you’d like. A final request?”

“Can you go fuck yourself?” Castiel asks cheekily. “Can that be my request?”

Sir says nothing. He doesn’t even laugh. Which is how Castiel knows he’s angry. Maybe pretend angry, maybe real angry, but angry nonetheless.

Then something sharp and electric touches his cock out of nowhere, and Castiel is shouting, fire licking through his genitals. It only lasts a second, one of those pains where the moment it’s gone you realize it wasn’t that bad. He’s breathless when he demands, “What the fuck was that?”

“You need to be taught some manners, boy.”

“I’m not your _boy_, and fuck your fucking manners. What the fuck was that?”

“Every time you swear from this point forward, you’ll feel that pain again. I’m sure you’ll eventually be able to figure out what it is.”

Castiel swallows down all of the swears he wants to spit at sir, settling instead for an angry, “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

“And ruin all the fun?” Sir tsks. His fingers ghost over Castiel’s cock, the touch enough to coax it into hardening again. “Do you like playing games, little angel?”

There’s something dangerous in the question. Castiel pauses, taking a moment, and then the recollection comes to him. He asked the man he murdered the same thing. They played a _game_.

_But this is pretend, _Castiel reminds himself. _You’re safe._

That pain from before wasn’t that bad. He decides to piss the man off instead of giving in, wanting to prove to sir that he’s tougher than he seems, tougher than the weak boy who is always crying and anxious, who can never fucking take care of himself. “Fuck you and your fucking games.”

The pain returns, this time right on his balls. It’s worse there. Or maybe not worse. Maybe both were terrible, and Castiel had just forgotten.

Sir waits for Castiel to catch his breath, waits for the pain to fade into nothing more than a dull ache.

Then he does it a second time.

Castiel can hear himself gasping like a dying fish. He can’t get himself to stop. He hates himself.

He hates sir.

He loves everything.

“Y-you did it t-twice,” Castiel complains, feeling betrayed.

“You swore twice. I warned you. Each time you swear, you’ll get hurt. I don’t care if it’s in the same sentence. You earned two zaps.”

_Zaps_.

Oh god, that’s an electric wand. He’s fucking shocking Castiel. Using electricity on him. While he's wet.

“You’ll play my fucking game, or I’ll kill you right now.”

“All talk,” Castiel growls. “You don’t have the balls.”

His tormentor just laughs softly, his footsteps moving again. There’s a stretch of silence then. Long enough for Castiel to start doubting his sass. Whatever he has coming, it probably isn’t good.

The sudden press of a body against his, warm and heavy, catches Castiel by surprise. He hadn’t heard sir walk. The man must be able to muffle his steps if he desires. It throws Castiel off knowing he doesn’t have as much of an advantage as he thought. His sense of hearing has also been taken, sir controlling what he gets to hear.

“If I stab you in the kidney, it’ll take you 20 minutes to bleed out,” sir whispers in Castiel’s ear, running something cold and very metallic-feeling along the curve of Castiel’s stomach. Castiel goes perfectly still, aware that this is a _knife_. Sir is touching him with a _knife_. “20. Long. Minutes.”

Castiel whimpers.

Satisfied, sir pulls the knife away and moves back enough where his body heat is no longer tangible to Castiel. Something rattles, something metallic. “What will it be? 20 minute kidney death, or play my game?”

It suddenly occurs to Castiel that sir knows this information about the kidney death from personal experience. And, considering sir is not in fact dead, his personal experience was on the killer side of the knife. He doesn’t know why this strikes him so hard, it’s not worse than watching the man commit murder just a little while ago, but it gets to him differently. His heart begins to race. His palms go sweaty.

This man is a murderer.

And Castiel is at his mercy.

The knife returns. Castiel makes every part of his body rigid, not wanting to accidentally hurt himself.

“I don’t repeat myself,” sir warns in a voice too soft to be anything but terrifying. “Answer the question.”

“Game,” Castiel whispers, his voice an echo of sir’s in which he sounds _terrified_. “Wanna play the game.”

“Good choice.” Sir runs a fingertip from the base of Castiel’s throat down to his pelvis, stopping just short of his cock. Then he’s walking away, his steps heavy enough for Castiel to track them. One, two, three, four, five, six. _What’s six steps away? Why can’t Castiel remember the layout better?_

Oh, that’s right, because he was distracted by a fucking _murder _happening a few feet in front of him.

From his new position, sir says, “The rules are simple. I ask a question. If you answer, I don't hurt you. If you waste my time, I hurt you. Easy enough, right?"

The exact words he had used on the other man.

_What has Castiel gotten himself into?_

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” And then, things shift. He swears he can feel it in the air. A current runs through the dungeon. Through sir. Through _him_. “I’ll start off easy. What’s your name?”

Castiel licks his lips, deciding to go with the truth. “Castiel?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Telling, sir.” Castiel lifts his chin toward the direction sir’s voice is coming from, hoping to look more confident. “Castiel… Winchester.”

There's a pause, long enough for Castiel to think he fucked up. But then,

“Nice to meet you, Castiel Winchester,” Dean practically purrs. He sounds very _pleased. _“I’m Dean Winchester, in case you didn’t know.”

Castiel smirks. “I’m aware.”

Something sharp and instant hits Castiel’s thigh. He tries to yank his leg up, wanting to relieve the pain somehow, but his bindings don’t allow it. It was something whip-like. Maybe a belt. Or a crop. Not a flogger. It was singular. And painful. And out of the fucking blue.

“Try that again,” sir warns.

Castiel’s is still trying to figure out how the fuck the man hit him from so far away. There’s no way he can possibly guess what sir wants from him, other than an apology, so he goes with that. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Sir makes a noise, but he doesn’t comment. He just continues his interrogation.

The next question… Castiel doesn’t understand.

“You’re keeping something from me. What is it?”

Castiel rears back as far as the wall behind him will allow, unsure what sir means. “I - sir?”

The pain again. This time, his right thigh.

“Don’t waste my time.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir. I’m not - I’m not keeping anything from you.”

The pain again. His left thigh.

“You’re keeping something from me,” sir repeats slowly, as if the problem was that he didn’t hear the words clearly. When he speaks again, each word is punctuated with a hit. “What. Is. It?”

Castiel feels panic for the first time tonight. True fear is right on the edge of his senses. Keeping something from him… _what could that be? What does sir know? What has Castiel not told him?_

“There’s nothing-” he doesn’t finish the sentence, his air choking him as his balls are grabbed and twisted. It’s not until they’re finally released, an awful throb pounding between his legs in rhythm with his own heart, that he even notices the sudden body heat of sir being near him again. He had missed it.

He’s so fucking confused.

“It’s okay,” sir says softly, his touch suddenly gentle as he massages Castiel’s balls. “We’ll slow down. This must all be so overwhelming for you, little angel. Sir will help you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Castiel whispers, not even sure what he’s thanking him for or why he’s thanking him or what his life means anymore.

_You're keeping something from me._

He's _not_. What could sir be thinking of?

"Why don't you tell me what you were doing down here? Before you were caught."

Castiel swallows hard. It should be a straightforward question, but he's afraid that's a trick. "I was spying, sir."

"Mmm. I'll accept that, yes, but _wh_y were you here in the first place?"

That's a loaded question. He hadn't been sleeping well, fitfully tossing and turning, too anxious to settle. He sees his father in 2 days. Tensions are running high. He overheard some men at dinner say something about Chuck betraying them. He remembered the comment Dean made about Chuck only having 48 hours, which is up by now.

He had wanted Dean. Needed him.

But was that really why he came down here? Entered the dungeon? Went snooping?

Castiel is yanked from his thoughts when sir grabs his right nipple and twists. The man doesn't stop until Castiel’s back is bowed, a shriek ripping from his lungs. He barely even registers when something is clipped onto the sore bud before sir is twisting the other one. Castiel sobs dryly, shaking his head. Sir has never been that rough before on his nipples. He swears they're going to tear off.

"That's for wasting my time," sir growls as he clips Castiel’s other nipple. Whatever he's using isn't the usual clamp from their playroom. It feels different. Scratcher. Lighter weight, but with a sharper bite. "I don't have all day. Answer my fucking question."

"I don't - fuck, I don't -"

The electric wand zaps at the base of his left nipple, the abused flesh surging white hot. He tosses his head back, "Ahhh, fuck!"

Sir sighs heavily and zaps the other nipple.

"_Language_," sir reminds him.

"Sorry," Castiel gasps. His vision is blurring despite the blindfold. He hadn't known darkness could blur. "S-sorry, sir."

"Now answer my question."

Castiel shudders in his bindings, fear crawling along his spine. "I don't remember it, sir. I'm sorry."

There's a brief pause. Then, "Are you determined to waste my fucking time? Is this a game to you?"

Castiel wants to point out that this _is _a game, sir said so himself, but he has a feeling he's in for enough pain as it is. He doesn't need to earn more by sassing.

"I'm sorry, sir. I - it was - was it why I woke up?"

Sir sighs. A moment later, something pinches the skin of Castiel’s side. He yelps. Whatever it is doesn't pull away, remaining like a clamp on his nipple would. Another is quickly added. He begins to tremble, his voice weak when he asks, "What are you doing, sir?"

"Punishing you for being forgetful," he says simply. Castiel cries out as another _thing _is added. Sir is making a line of them up his side. They _hurt_, all throbbing and stinging in unison, his nipples echoing their pain. "The question was not why you woke up, but I suppose you can tell me that while we are on the topic."

Swallowing hard, Castiel tries to focus on the English language in his mind instead of the pain coursing through his body. "I couldn't sleep, sir."

"Hmmm. Why not?"

"I woke up and - and-" Castiel pauses, unsure how to explain.

The pause earns him a sharp smack to his cock. He cries out, turning his hips as if that could possibly save him.

"Stop." Sir smacks his cock again. "Wasting." Again. "My." Again. "Time." Again.

Castiel sobs openly, tears soaking his blindfold. His whole body shudders against the wall. His cock weeps with him, rock hard and pathetic. A _traitor._

"You were gone," Castiel gasps, too far out of his mind now to play pretend. He doesn't have the mental capacity for anything but the truth. It's almost relieving, like the weight of his potential lies has been taken from him. He wonders if that's what sir's true victims feel when being interrogated. No wonder Tammy had seemed so _relieved_. "I woke up and you were gone, sir."

A finger strokes down the center of his chest, surprisingly gentle. Surprisingly _seductive_. Castiel doesn't trust it.

"I'm a very busy man. This isn't the first time you've woken up without me." The finger reaches the base of his cock. Then it's sir's entire hand wrapping around him, tight but not painful. "Why did you come looking tonight? What was different?"

"Nothing, sir."

Sir tsks, his hand falling away from Castiel’s cock. Castiel whimpers at the loss, then jerks and cries out when more clamp-like things are added to his body, this time on the opposite side of his torso. His body from his abused genitals to his throbbing nipples feels as if it's been set on fire.

"Sir," Castiel whimpers, shaking his head. "Please."

"This is your fault," sir says simply. "Answer my questions or don't. I don't care. I'm having fun." Sir flicks both of the things clamped on Castiel's nipples, making them shift and bob.

Castiel screams as sir laughs.

"Aren't you having fun?" sir asks innocently once Castiel has settled into quiet, raspy breaths.

"No," Castiel says with a choked inhale. "Sir, it _hurts_. Everything hurts. _Please_."

"It's in your hands, little angel," sir says, sounding almost exasperated, almost _desperate_. Like it's hurting him to hurt Castiel. Castiel doesn't buy it for a second. "Just behave, and I'll make you feel _so good_. Don't you want to feel good, little angel?"

"Yes," Castiel sobs. "Please, sir, yes."

"Then tell me why you came down here."

"To see you, sir."

Sir chuckles. “To see me doing what, Castiel?”

He pictures the man with his victim hanging from the ceiling, a life literally in his hands. The power radiating off of him. The danger. It was the Dean Winchester everyone had warned Castiel about.

“Just to see you, sir.”

“You’re not a very good liar.”

Castiel’s rebuttal is cut off when something hits his side. He gasps, more in surprise than pain. It wasn't a hard hit.

But then he realizes where the thing is headed. It lightly hits him again, a little closer to his side. Then a little closer. A little closer. Then - _smack_. One of the clamps is hit off. Castiel pulls at all of his chains, heaving forward in a shock of pain that makes his ears buzz.

He's hit again.

And again, the same spot, harder, until that clamp comes off too.

He sobs so hard his muscles ache.

Sir hits him again and again and _again_, ignoring his sobs and head shakes and slurred pleading. He hits him until all but the clamps on his nipples are free. Then he runs the tip of whatever it is he's been using along the curve of one of Castiel's pec. It's a threat. Castiel feels it in his _soul_.

Sir is panting when he warns in a gravel voice, "Last chance. Why did you come down here tonight?"

Any shame or guilt or second guessing himself is long gone. All Castiel can do is tell the truth. "To watch, sir."

"To watch what?"

"You. Wha'ver y' w're doin'. Wan'ned to - to see." Castiel realizes he's slurring. He doesn't know why, and he also can't get it to stop. "Wan'ned see this side'o you."

A hand wraps around Castiel's cock, just the right pressure. It’s wet and warm. He falls forward against sir as the man begins stroking him, his face hitting somewhere on his body and resting there. Sir allows it. Castiel opens his mouth to thank him, but all he manages to do is sob in relief.

"Feel good, little angel?" sir asks in his ear. Castiel nods weakly against him, sniffling. Sir hums. "See? I told you, all you have to do is answer my questions, and you get to feel good. Not so hard, right?"

"No'so har'," Castiel echoes, his hips twitching as he tries to fuck sir's hand. Sir holds him still against the wall with his free hand, forcing Castiel to take what he's given and nothing more. Castiel whimpers. "_Please_, sir."

"Did you like what you saw tonight?"

Castiel moans, his shame briefly flashing in his mind before vanishing again. It's enough to redden his cheeks, but not enough to convince him to lie. "Yes, sir."

The hand disappears, but only for a moment. Then it's brushing against his hole. Castiel moans, his legs going weak. The only reason he keeps standing is the chains holding his wrists up tight. His shoulders burn.

"Lean on me," sir orders, sandwiching Castiel between him and the wall. The moment Castiel allows himself to relax into sir, his shoulders stop hurting. They still ache, but not badly enough to distract him.

A finger slides into his hole, sir chuckling when he gasps at the sudden intrusion.

"You act so sweet and innocent." Sir strokes him only a few times before pressing a second finger in. Castiel grunts, his hole fluttering as it tries to adjust. He has a feeling sir doesn't plan on prepping him well. It's going to hurt tonight. He moans. "You're not though, are you, little angel?"

"No, sir," Castiel admits shamelessly.

"You're a little devil. Made just for me. Aren't you?"

Castiel nods frantically. "Yes, sir."

He starts to cry as sir presses harder against him. The friction is delicious against his poor cock, but the pressure against his clipped nipples hurts so badly he can't catch his breath.

"Last question. Answer correctly, I fuck you until you come on my cock."

"If I get it wrong, sir?"

He can hear the danger in the man's voice as he says quietly, "I hurt you until you get it right."

\----

Dean gives Castiel a few more seconds to press up against him before stepping back. Castiel stumbles forward the single step his chains will allow, whimpering at the loss of Dean. He pathetically tugs at his chains like he could somehow make them longer. Dean just stands there, smirking. He decides to light another cigarette.

He lights a candle while he’s at it. A red one. It’ll look beautiful against the boy’s pale, fragile skin.

“Sir?” Castiel asks softly, the boy turning his head from side to side to search him out. Dean ignores him, just standing back and taking a puff of his cigarette.

A spool of thick rope catches Dean’s attention. It’s nothing he’d ever use in his playroom, too thick, too scratchy, too hard to work with, too uncomfortable for his sub, but this isn’t the playroom, this is a victim in his dungeon. He wants Castiel to hurt.

Oh god, he wants to hurt him so fucking _bad_.

“Sir?”

Dean sucks on his cigarette, walking softly so the boy won’t hear his footsteps. Castiel is smart. He knows Dean didn’t leave him. Then again, his mind is probably so fucked right now, he can’t be sure. Dean did pretend to leave earlier after all, and he didn’t. He just stood in the corner, button on his pants popped to relieve some of the ache in his cock as he watched his best friend and right hand man prep Castiel like he would any other victim. Like he had with the man Dean killed earlier.

“Sir?”

Annoyed now, Dean turns his face and blows smoke in Castiel’s direction. They aren’t close enough for him to choke on the stuff, but it’s enough for him to inhale it, to notice it. His face wrinkles for just a moment before he’s relaxing in his restraints.

How adorable. He feels safe being reminded that Dean didn’t leave.

Clearly Dean hasn’t hurt him enough.

_Challenge accepted._

Dean grabs ten or so feet of rope and brings it over to Castiel, beginning to wind the course material around the boy’s body without explaining what he’s doing. He makes sure that every knot he needs to add for stability is placed right against a red spot from where he whipped the clothespins off of the boy. The rope digs in hard enough to make his flat stomach bulge a little on each side of the lines. Castiel is breathing ragged, but staying silent.

That’ll change.

The first noise the boy makes is a sharp gasp when his ankle is released from the chains and his leg is hiked up and bound so he’s standing on only one leg, the other leg tied so it’s bent with the calve against the thigh. Dean steps back, assessing his work as he puffs on his cigarette. Then he adds some rope between the knot on the boy’s hip, right beside the foot that's pinned against his ass cheek, and the hook from the ceiling where the rest of the rope is looped around, making it harder for the boy to move. Then he reaches over and grabs the end of the chains for Castiel’s wrists, yanking until he’s stretched taught, his hands behind his head, elbows slightly bent to maintain the position.

“Sir,” Castiel whines. “Sir, I don’t like this.”

Dean’s laugh is low. He feels like a kid on Christmas. “Oh, little angel. You should not have given me that information.”

“Sir…”

“Why did you come to watch me tonight? Why did you want to see this side of me?”

The boy tries to shift anxiously, but he regrets it as he tilts forward. Dean doesn’t help him correct himself. It’s not the end of the world if he’s off-kilter. In fact, Dean sort of enjoys the beautiful curve of his body now.

He can’t wait to pour hot wax down his spine and over the swell of that beautiful ass of his.

Castiel hasn’t answered yet.

Which means he’s in trouble.

Dean cradles his cigarette between two fingers and grabs the crude riding crop he had used on the boy earlier. He smacks it against Castiel’s left nipple, making sure it’s not hard enough to free the clothespin on him. Castiel tosses his head back, his body making a beautiful arch as he yells out. Dean hits the other nipple, just the same, making sure the pin stays on.

Then he drags the end of his crop along Castiel’s very vulnerable ball sack. He smirks at the boy’s hard cock that’s dripping a damn puddle of precum at this point. It’s always more fun when his victims are enjoying the pain. He knows the knowledge eats them alive on the inside. The shame of it. The filth of it.

Castiel is the filthiest of all.

It’s _magnificent_.

This is the man he’s going to fucking marry.

_What a fucking dream._

“Why did you need to see this side of me, Castiel?” Dean asks. And he means it when he says _this _side, because he’s not one to lie to himself. The boy came to see the monster in Dean, and the monster is still here, playing on the knife's edge of too far. Dean gave his monster strict rules as he chained Castiel up. Rules he has to stick to, or Dean will never forgive himself. The monster agreed.

They aren’t going to make Castiel bleed.

They aren’t going to break any of his bones.

They aren’t going to do any lasting damage to his body.

But from there, the sky is the limit.

Castiel has taken too long again.

Dean smacks the riding crop against his nipples hard, left then right, sending both clothespins flying in rapid succession. Castiel shrieks, then starts writhing and choking on air, head shaking viciously back and forth as Dean continues smacking the end of the riding crop against the bright red, nearly purple, puffy nubs.

He doesn’t stop until Castiel is just hanging there, head limp between his shoulders, the only sounds coming from wheezing breaths.

“Your fault,” Dean says simply.

“Please, sir,” Castiel whispers. His voice is so soft, so broken, Dean can barely hear him. Dean’s cock aches. Since the button of his pants is already undone, he tugs the zipper down. It’s still not enough. He grips his cock and massages it, groaning in relief. Castiel’s head snaps up at the sound.

Dean grins.

“Want an easier question, little angel?

The boy shudders. “God, yes. Please, sir, yes.”

“Why the fuck aren’t you afraid of me right now?” It’s more the monster asking than Dean. Dean knows deep down it’s because the boy trusts him, the boy loves him, and he’s proud of that. But the monster is indignant. He feels like he’s bringing his A game here, when considering the rules he has to respect, and the boy isn’t afraid.

Except…

“I am, sir,” Castiel whispers. He lifts his chin and turns his face in the direction of Dean’s voice. “I’m terrified right now.”

Dean arches an eyebrow. Knowing the boy deserves a reward, he heads over to the toys Benny had brought him when he had first texted him to come down. He hadn’t wanted him to take too long, so he had only requested a few things from the playroom, all easily found. He grabs the prostate massager and the cock sound, as well as the lube.

As he strolls back over to Castiel, he asks, “If you're so afraid then why are you still here, tied up and at my mercy?”

“Because you won’t let me go.”

Dean chuckles.

“That how you want to play this, little angel? That’s fine.” Dean slips the prostate massager between Castiel’s lips, loving the way he startles. “For now.”

Without being told, Castiel sucks on the toy. Dean allows it for a few seconds before deciding it’s slick enough. Then he slides the toy into his tight hole without warning. He holds the boy still, keeping him from jerking too much until Dean has the toy settled exactly where he wants it. Dean waits just a moment, allowing Castiel to gather himself.

Then he turns it on.

“Oh!” Castiel squeaks, body going taut.

“Every time that falls out of your hole, you will be punished.” Dean smirks as he watches the toy already slipping. “Understood?”

“B-but sir-”

“Understood?” Dean asks again, punctuating the question with a smack of the riding crop against Castiel’s pretty little balls.

Castiel jolts.

Which, of course, means the toy falls out.

The boy sobs.

Dean laughs.

He grabs the red candle that’s now dripping with wax and walks over to the boy. He’s already begging breathlessly, “Please, sir, I’m sorry, please, I’ll try harder, give me one more chance, please, please, sir, please don’t-”

Dean cuts off the desperate pleas by tilting the candle, spilling hot wax between the boy’s shoulder blades. Castiel’s entire body goes perfectly still, his breath held for just a second. Then he’s groaning, his muscles melting like the wax, his body shuddering.

"You're lucky I've decided to keep you. I don't want to ruin this pretty little body of yours. My usual victims get acid."

Castiel moans, long and low. Dean continues pouring until his entire spine is coated in red. The boy whimpers, and he whispers, “Owww,” once, but he’s also moaning, his cock still adding to that puddle of precum on the ground, and Dean thinks he should make sure the boy is aware of how pathetic he is. How slutty.

“You realize you’re hard for me right now, yes?” Dean taunts.

“Can’t help it,” the boy whines. “Can’t help it, sir.”

“Because you’re a fucking greedy slut. Even for pain. You’ll take anything if it means getting your holes stuffed and your pretty little cock played with, isn’t that right, little angel?”

The boy’s face goes red, nothing but a pathetic whimper coming as a reply.

“Little angel?” Dean prompts, tipping the candle again so he’s covering Castiel’s ass cheeks. Some drips down his crack. The boy chokes on something that’s either a sob or a scream. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” the boy pants. “God, yes, I’ll take anything.”

“From anyone? Or just me?”

“You, sir. Only you.”

Dean huffs. He reaches down and grabs the prostate massager, sliding it back into Castiel’s hole. It goes in far too easily. The boy will lose it again soon.

“You’d take anything from anyone if I said so. You’re mine now, little angel. My captive. Don’t you think all of the hunters would love to get their hands on Chuck Novak’s sweet little boy?”

Castiel shudders. “You wouldn’t share me, sir.” He sounds uncertain.

Since it’s the monster playing with him and not Dean, he just shrugs. “Actually, I would, but they’re all sleeping like you should have been. I won’t wake them up just to have to deal with a pathetic little slut like you. I’m more than capable of handling the situation.”

The boy’s pretty pink lips part, a sound coming from him that seems to maybe be the start of a word. But then he’s clenching all of his muscles, his one foot on the ground twitching. “Sir, I can’t!”

The toy falls.

Laughing, Dean picks it up and slides it back in. Then he grabs the cock sound. “Hold very fucking still, or this will hurt,” Dean warns.

Before Castiel can ask any questions, he dribbles lube over the sound and begins to press it into his slit. Castiel jerks, Dean easing up right away. The monster in him pouts, but he remembers the rules. No lasting damage.

“Stay. Still.”

“What is it?” Castiel asks, true fear in his voice. “What are you doing to me?”

Dean debates telling him.

He decides not to. He rather likes that terror he’s hearing. The boy said he was scared before, but he wasn’t. Not enough at least. Not like Dean wanted him to be. _Needed_ him to be.

But now he is.

“Hold. Still.”

The boy does. The sound is inserted, Castiel shuddering and gasping and whining the entire time. Dean doesn’t stop until just the bulb at the end is present.

The massager drops.

Dean sighs deeply.

“God, I really thought you’d be better than this.” He leaves the sound where it is, same with the massager, and goes to the wall. There’s a particularly brutal cane there. If he maintains control of his hits, he won’t draw blood.

Maybe a few little drops wouldn’t hurt.

The boy had said he took his limits back anyway, hadn’t he?

_Limits should never change in the heat of the moment,_ Dean chastises the monster. The monster rolls his eyes but concedes to being careful.

Careful..._ish_.

Dean just taps him gently at first, warming his flesh up, making the candle wax flake off the curve of his ass cheeks. Castiel starts making high pitched whimpering sounds in his throat.

With the first true hit, harsh and direct, painting a slash of pink across the fleshy underside of his ass cheeks, the boy keens. Dean informs him casually, “That was for not listening when I told you to hold still the first time.”

He hits him again, just above the first slash.

“That was for questioning me.”

He hits him again, just above the last. The boy makes a dry sort of sound that ends high-pitched and whimpery.

“That was for forgetting to address me properly.”

He hits him again, just above the last.

The boy wails.

"That was for dropping the toy."

Dean hits him again, but this time he doesn't stop at just one. Keeping the flicks light, he goes up and down, steadily thrashing at the boy’s pretty white skin, enjoying the slow rise of color the cane brings out in the flesh. First light pink. Then deep pink. Then red.

_God, Dean would give anything to make him bleed._

He puts the massager back in, knowing he can torment the boy for longer if he keeps him aroused. Castiel barely protests, just pathetically hanging there in his bindings, tilted forward halfway, making sounds like an injured wild animal.

“Why are you here, Castiel?” Dean asks as he mercifully holds the massager in place so the boy doesn’t have to worry about it. “Here in my chains, getting hurt, at my mercy. You said you’re scared, so why are you staying?”

“I told you-”

“And I don’t want to hear that lie again. It’s not because I’m keeping you captive. Not really. If I offered to let you go, you’d be disappointed. Maybe not fully, maybe not enough to stay, but you would be, wouldn’t you?”

The boy drops his chin, shuddering.

Dean grabs the cane with his free hand and begins to tap it along the inside of the boy’s more exposed thigh. “Be honest.”

“Yes,” the boy whispers.

“Yes what?” he asks, tapping the cane just a little harder to remind him what will happen if he lies.

“Yes, I’d - I’d be disappointed.”

“Mmm.” Dean leaves the boy, smiling as he immediately clenches his ass cheeks to keep his toy in place. He must not have realized it would hurt worse now that he’s been caned. The boy sobs at the pain.

The way his body heaves makes the toy fall out.

Dean chuckles darkly.

He grabs the candle.

“This is for forgetting to say sir just now,” Dean informs him before dripping hot wax over Castiel’s pathetically hard cock and balls.

The boy shrieks, thrashing in his bindings. Dean closes his eyes as the sound echoes around him. He’s never hurt a sub like this before. He’s never even tried.

And Castiel is taking it so fucking well.

“This,” Dean says carefully, realizing just how dangerous this situation is, just how far he could take this, just how far he wants to take this. He smacks the cane over the boy’s ass cheeks once, twice, three times. “Is for letting the toy drop again.”

“Please, sir,” the boy sobs. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Are you?” Dean asks. He grabs a handful of the boy’s left ass cheek and tugs it to the side, pouring hot wax directly on his hole. Castiel chokes, then gags. “Because you just swore, and I thought I had already taught you that lesson. Do we have to relearn it?”

“No. No, sir, no. No, I remember. I’m so sorry, sir, I remember. I can be good. I swear it. Please. I can be good.”

Dean hums, enjoying the view of the wax beginning to harden along his boy’s hole.

He should wash that off so he doesn’t get wax inside of his tight channel when Dean fucks him later.

Good thing they have a hose, and it just so happens to be within reach, looped over a hook on the wall. Dean pours more wax over the boy’s ass and crack, tilting Castiel’s body forward just enough for gravity to send some of the wax to his sack. Then he lets him settle back in his restraints and reaches over for the hose.

“This might be cold,” he warns, more just to see the way the boy tenses in anticipation and confusion, and less to be kind.

Then the hose is on, full pressure, and the boy is shrieking as what must be ice cold water bites into the skin that was just being burned a moment before.

“I could probably fill you up with this,” Dean muses, rubbing at Castiel’s hole to help get some of the wax off as he sprays the water over it. “Fill your gut with water, then fuck you just like this while your belly sloshes. Keep your cock plugged so you can’t even find any pleasure from it, any release. What do you think of that, hmmm? Do you think you’d like being so full you might burst?”

“Please,” Castiel begs. “Please don’t do that, sir.”

It’s a red limit. Of course he won’t.

But it would have been nice.

Maybe he can talk to Castiel about that in the future. Maybe the boy will one day let him play this game again. If Dean knew ahead of time, if he was able to prepare, this would be… well, he’d say amazing, but this is already amazing. It’d be even better, if that’s possible. It’d sure be more fun. More creative. Longer. Harsher.

Yeah, he might have to talk this boy into doing this again.

Which means, he realizes with a sigh, he shouldn’t push him too far. He doesn’t want to risk Castiel safewording and refusing to play this scenario with him again.

Dean turns the hose off and drops it. He yanks on the chains, and pulls at the knots of rope until Castiel is crashing unceremoniously to his knees at Dean’s feet, his arms still behind his head, his one leg still wrapped up with rope to stay bent.

“You’re going to show me how sorry you are,” Dean explains as he grabs the prostate massager and sneaks it into the boy’s hole. He moves Castiel until one of his feet is right beneath his ass, acting as a stopper to keep the toy in place. He checks the sound. Then he rubs the boy’s hard cock for a few seconds just to enjoy the needy little moans the boy makes when the oversensitive member is massaged. He whimpers and tries to chase Dean’s hand when Dean stops. It’s extra funny, because he chases his hand in the wrong direction. “God you’re fucking pathetic. Suck my cock.”

He shoves his cock past Castiel’s lips, catching the boy by surprise. He doesn’t wait for him to get with the program. He just grabs two fistfuls of hair and brutally skull fucks the boy until he has him gagging hard enough for his body to lurch forward. Some bile falls from his mouth, mixed with spit. The boy looks up at Dean - or tries to, since he can’t see him through the blindfold - and Dean can sense the betrayal there.

It makes him want to come right then and there, untouched, all over the boy’s sad little face.

“Not my fault you can’t take a cock good enough,” Dean growls. He uses his handkerchief to wipe his cock off, then to wipe the boys mouth. “Next time, I’ll just keep going. Relax your fucking throat.”

This time, Castiel remembers what he’s been taught. He relaxes his throat, only gagging once more, this time just a soft thing before his body gives in again. It’s not long before the boy starts to squirm on the ground. At first, it’s just a subtle roll of his hips, rocking back against his foot to get the massager in his hole to move a little. Then it was more like little hops as he tried to fuck himself on something too small to do so. Then it was shifting side to side, his thighs trying to make contact with his neglected cock.

Now he’s managed to scoot himself forward until he’s humping Dean’s fucking leg, his body stretched out in what must be a painful position so he can keep sucking Dean’s cock, keep his arms where they have to be so his shoulders don’t dislocate, and keep his cock pressed up against Dean’s pant leg.

Dean slows his thrusts until he’s just lazily fucking in and out of the boys mouth, the movements becoming absentminded. “Is someone horny?”

The boy whimpers and nods. He keeps rubbing up against Dean’s leg.

“You’re like a fucking bitch in heat,” Dean snarls.

Despite his cheeks burning red, Castiel keeps going. His breathing is erratic. His stomach muscles are rippling. He’s close to coming, which is hilarious. Dean wonders if the boy forgot the sound, or if he thinks the sound will magically let him come, or if he thinks Dean will take pity on him and take the sound out. He decides to wait and see. He even presses forward, giving the boy more friction. Castiel moans like a cheap fucking whore, his movements growing sloppy and desperate.

Dean pulls out of his mouth. “Say you’re a bitch in heat.”

“I’m a bitch in heat, sir,” Castiel pants shamelessly.

“Do you like hurting for me, little angel?"

Castiel nods, sobbing. "Yes, sir."

"Bur you like being good, don't you?"

"_Yes_, sir." Castiel moans as he tosses his head back, slim hips frantic as they work his cock against Dean. "Wanna be good. Always wanna be good for you."

"Then stop," Dean says simply.

It takes the boy a few seconds to register the order. Then his rhythm falters and his cries get louder. His hips seem to fight him, but he finally gains full control over himself after a few more seconds tick by. His body is jerking violently.

He's close to his limits.

Dean goes down on one knee and kisses the boy, not caring that he tastes like bile and blood - the blood must be from a bite to his tongue or lip or cheek, and Dean's monster may do a slight happy dance at the knowledge that he did in fact get the boy to draw blood through a loophole.

When Dean begins to push Castiel onto his back, the boy is pliant and easily moved. He just lays there on the wet concrete, arms extended across the flooring above his head, one leg still forced into a bend, the other spread out lazily, his cock so hard Dean can watch his pulse as it bobs, precum leaking from around the sound, skin varying shades of pink and red, chin covered in drool, lips looking swollen from sucking cock, his hole still stuffed with the massager that has run out of battery.

He looks debauched.

He looks beautiful.

Dean takes a photo with his phone, already looking forward to when he will get to show the boy later. Castiel will blush so damn hard at the sight of himself like this.

"Tell me why you stayed," Dean whispers, his hand searching out the toy in Castiel’s ass and removing it.

"Because I like it," Castiel easily admits, his head lazily rolling towards Dean's voice. "I like hurting for you, sir. And I - I like feeling afraid. Knowing how he felt. Knowing - knowing what it's like to be your victim. It's sick, I know that, but-"

"Nothing about it is sick. Nothing about _us_ is sick." Dean spits on his cock twice, using his thumb to spread the moisture. The boy isn't prepped well, but he's loose and pliant. It'll only hurt in a good way. "We aren't going to let anyone tell us what's right and wrong. It's for us to decide. _Me_ to decide, really. And there's nothing about us that's wrong, Castiel. I've seen wrong. I've _done _wrong. We aren't wrong. _This _isn't wrong. Understood?"

Castiel sighs dreamily. "Yes, sir."

"We still have that final question," Dean reminds him as he settles the head of his cock against Castiel's hole.

"Sir?"

"The thing you're keeping from me."

The boy deflates, whining as Dean begins to push into him. "Sir, I don't _know_."

"You do." Dean keeps pressing forward, refusing to let the boy's hole stop him. He's slow, gentle, but persistent. "I think it has something to do with why you came down here in the first place. You needed something tonight. You needed to see me at my worst. I want to know why."

Castiel bites down on his bottom lip, his head turning so he's facing away from Dean.

Dean chuckles darkly. Once he's fully seated in the boy's ass, he fiddles with the sound still plugging his cock. Castiel jerks once before holding perfectly still. "You don't have to tell me, but then you don't get to come. I'll finish with you, bring you upstairs, clean you up, put a cage on your cock, and hide hide fucking key."

"Sir," the boy gasps.

"I'm serious. You have until I'm finished using you to be honest."

The warning now given, the question already asked, Dean focuses on his own pleasure. He grips Castiel's hips and begins to move, setting a brutal pace. Castiel makes the most beautiful sounds. Sounds he's never made before. Like he's broken, almost. Sexually broken.

It's not long at all before he's sobbing, "Please," and "Sir," and, "It hurts!"

He tries begging. "Please, sir, please let me come. Please. Please, sir, please."

He tries bargaining. "I'll do anything. God, anything, sir, please just let me come."

He tries guilting. "You've hurt me so much, I have to, sir! Everything hurts! I _need _it."

He tries anger. "Fuck you! You're a fucking asshole! I hate you. It's not fair. This isn't fucking _fair._ I should get to come. I've fucking _earned _it."

Dean pushes Castiel's bound leg back to expose part of his ass and his thigh. He smacks him five times, right over slashes from the cane earlier, all hard enough to make his hand sting. Then he calmly reminds Castiel that swearing is against the rules.

Castiel sobs openly then, no more words coming from him.

"Fuck," Dean growls, his own orgasm becoming unbearably hard to hold back. He laughs breathlessly as he fucks into the body beneath him. "You stubborn fucking boy. You're really going to sacrifice your orgasm, aren't you?"

The boy seems to realize what that means. If he doesn't fro.t he words, he does by recognizing the stutter of Dean's hips, the shift in his breathing, the tight press of his fingers to Castiel's hips.

"Because I wanted to know if I could really love someone who does the things you do!" Castiel yells frantically, the words sort of blurring together but clear enough for Dean to hear. "I told myself to be your husband, I - I have to be aware of the monstrous side of you. I won't be someone who is blind to the darker sides of their husband. I don't want a marriage like that. But I didn't- I didn't know if I could handle it. If I could still… _love you_."

Dean tears the blindfold off, wiping at Castiel's tears. He presses forward until their foreheads are touching, the boy making an adorable vibrating, almost purr-like sound as Dean's cock pushes impossibly deeper.

"And did you find out?" Dean asks breathlessly, hoping Castiel can't hear the fear in the question.

Castiel looks up at him, blue eyes glazed and rimmed red. He doesn't look at him any differently than before, but Dean doesn't trust that.

"After what you saw. After what I've just done to you. After knowing I wanted to do even worse." Dean pauses, shaking his head helplessly. "Can you love me?"

The boy tilts his chin to skate his lips across Dean's. He whispers against him, "I love you even more."

Something vicious rips it's way through Dean at the confirmation.

"Fuck I love you," Dean gasps, one hand grabbing Castiel's throat, the other pulling the sound out of the boy's leaking slit.

Then he releases everything onto the boy, every worry, ever held breath, every held back hit or thrust, every wakeful moment worrying Castiel would run. He fucks into him hard enough for the boy to struggle to breathe beneath him, his gasps for air frantic and ragged. He loves the feel of Castiel's throat working frantically beneath his hand. He squeezes, making it even harder for the boy to get air.

Castiel loves him.

Castiel saw his monster. Castiel _played _with his monster.

And Castiel still loves him.

Their eyes lock.

Dean growls, "Come," as his own orgasm slams into him.

The man who loves him obeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAMF Dean, caning, consensual non-consent play, under-negotiated kink, clothespins, electric play, hair pulling, mirror sex, semi-publisc sex, nipple play, all sorts of sexy toys, painslut Cas, cock sounding, temperature play, wax play, torture (mafia-related), bdsm interrogation play, sadist Dean, masochist Cas, tiny bit of Cas with others (Benny likes to help/watch a bit)

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr for more of my content if you'd like! (@destiel-love-forever) <3


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